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ROB ROY 


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CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION . ix 

Sir Waltbr Scott ix 

“Rob Rot” the Novel ...... xix 

Historical Sketch xxiv 

Rob Roy and the Clan MacGregor . . xxvii 

Scott’s Description of Rob Roy . . . . xl 

Bibliography ........ xlv 

ROB ROY 1 

NOTES 437 

OUTLINE AND TOPICS 467 

GLOSSARY 487 


The Eagle he was lord above 
And Rob was lord below. 

— Wordsworth : Bob Boy's Grave. 


INTRODUCTION 


Sir Walter Scott 

No name in literature is more potent than that of Sir 
Walter Scott. It is a name full of inspiring suggestions 
and eternal realities. It is a name to conjure with. To 
hundreds of thousands of boys and girls in the high school 
it instantly calls to mind the martial energy of Marmion 
and The Lady of the Lake; the thrilling, throbbing life of 
Rob Roy, Ivanhoe, and Quentin Durward; but, best of all, 
the memory of a man who was rich in friendships and good 
works, who was brave and honest in adversity and sorrow, 
and whose ideals of thought and action were as pure as the 
air of his native hills. 

Scott was fortunate in his inheritance. Time, place, and 
ancestry conspired to make him “king of the romantics,” 
as Stevenson called him. From the very day of his birth — 
August 15, 1771, in Edinburgh — he was under the magic 
spell of Scotland. On both sides he was descended from old 
border families. His paternal ancestor was Walter Scott 
of Harden, who “flourished in the reign of Queen Mary.” 
Scott was proud of “Auld Wat.” In the Minstrelsy of the 
Scottish Border, Scott calls him “a renowned freebooter, 
concerning whom tradition has preserved a variety of anec- 
dotes” ; and in the fourth canto of The Lay of the Last Min- 
strel he declares that 

A braver knight than Harden’s lord 
N’er belted on a brand. 


IX 


X 


INTRODUCTION 


Scott’s father, Walter Scott of Edinburgh (the father of Allan 
Fairford in Redgauntlet) , was a lawyer who, like Portia, be- 
lieved that mercy should season justice. His mother, edu- 
cated and imaginative, was Anne Rutherford, daughter of a 
distinguished Edinburgh physician. This, as Scott remarked, 
was “no bad genealogy for a border minstrel.” 

The early childhood of Walter was distinctly romantic. 
In his second year, a “puir lame laddie” because of a fever, 
he was sent to the home of his grandfather, Robert Scott, a 
shepherd at Sandy-Knowe, near the Tweed. Here he was 
in the very heart of romantic country. There were crags and 
castles and battlefields all about him. 

O Caledonia ! stern and wild, 

Meet nurse for a poetic child ! 

In spite of his lameness he learned to climb mountains ; and 
once, during a thunderstorm, he was found on a crag, flat 
on his back, shouting at the lightning “Bonnie! bonnie!” 
At the age of five he was reciting ballads. Hardy Knute, he 
wrote years afterward, “was the first poem I ever learned, 
and the last I shall ever forget.” At the age of six he visited 
Prestonpans, the scene of Charles Edward’s. victory over the 
king’s army in 1745, where he heard stories told by survivors 
of the battle. But best of all, his grandmother, who perhaps 
appears as Mabel Rickets in Rob Roy, was a veritable well- 
spring of border delight, filling the lad’s mind with tales of 
the Black Douglas, Wat the Devil, and other famous heroes. 

And ever by the winter’s hearth 
Old tales I heard of woe and mirth. 

From the villagers also he listened to stories, just as Darsie 
Latimer in Redgauntlet listened to tales from Wandering 
Willie. In fact, it is hardly too much to say that this forma- 


SIR WALTER SCOTT 


XI 


tive period of Scott’s life received impressions of patriotic 
sentiment which later produced the most touching passages 
in Waverley and Redgauntlet. 

This love of romance proved to be the rudder of Scott’s 
education. At the age of seven he returned to Edinburgh 
and entered the high school, where he stayed five years, from 
1778 to 1783 ; but while looking at books he was thinking of 
the border. Like many a boy to-day, he was rich in general 
information, but poor in grammar. Like many a boy to-day, 
he was “more distinguished in the yards than in the class.” 
He himself tells us that he was “an incorrigible imp.” But 
this was hardly true. Both in the high school and in the 
university he was a great reader, and unlike many a boy to- 
day he remembered what he read. He devoured Shake- 
speare, Pope’s translation of Homer, and the eighteenth- 
century novels of Richardson, Fielding, and Fanny Burney; 
but his favorite subjects were mediaeval history and romance. 
Spenser he “could have read forever.” Boccaccio’s De- 
cameron he read in the original Italian. He loved Tasso’s 
Jerusalem Delivered. From Tasso he went to Ariosto, and 
then studied Spanish in order to read Cervantes’s Don Quixote. 
Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry , published in 1765, 
was also a perpetual delight. Once Scott took the book and 
hid himself in the garden. “Notwithstanding the sharp 
appetite of thirteen, I forgot the hour of dinner, was sought 
for with anxiety, and was still found entranced in my in- 
tellectual banquet.” Henceforth, Lockhart adds, Walter 
“overwhelmed” his schoolmates with “tragical recitations 
from the ballads.” “Historical incidents, or traditional 
legends connected with many of them,” wrote Scott con- 
cerning the same period of his life, “gave to my admiration 
a sort of intense impression of reverence, which at times 
made my heart feel too big for its bosom. From this time 


Xll 


INTRODUCTION 


the love of natural beauty, more especially when combined 
with ancient ruins, or remains of my father’s piety or splen- 
dor, became with me an insatiable passion.” 

But Scott was practical as well as romantic. While in 
the university he began to study law in his father’s office. 
This was in May, 1786. The very next year he made his 
first trip to the Highlands, where he talked with men who 
had taken part in the rising of 1745. But he continued 
his study of law with the same method as he had devoured 
books of romance. In 1792, just before he moved to Ashetiel, 
he was admitted to the bar. In the profession he attained 
ordinary success ; in 1799 he became sheriff depute, and later 
clerk of the court of sessions. But like Frank in Rob Roy, he 
could not put his heart into his father’s calling. 

At the end of 1797, after being rejected by Williamina 
Stuart, whose parents believed his social standing to be 
inferior to their own, Scott married Charlotte Carpentier, 
or Carpenter, daughter of a French royalist. They had four 
children, Walter and Charles, Sophia and Anne. Sophia 
married J. G. Lockhart, a young man of letters whom Scott 
had befriended and who became the novelist’s famous biog- 
rapher. 

From 1802 Scott’s literature was his life. He had already 
translated German works — Burger’s Lenore and the Wild 
Huntsman in 1796 and Goethe’s Gotz von Berlichingen in 
1799. But in 1802 he published two volumes of ballads, 
and in the following year another, the result of his numerous 
“raids” over the border. This Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border, containing many old ballads, as well as modern 
imitations by Scott and others, was received with enthusiasm. 
The Lay of the Last Minstrel, written under the inspiration of 
Coleridge’s Christabel, which Scott had read in manuscript, 
had been intended for the Minstrelsy, but, overleaping its 


SIR WALTER SCOTT 


xm 


original bounds, it was given to the world all by itself in 
1805. “Its success/’ says Lockhart, “at once decided that 
literature should be the main business of Scott’s life.” The 
fervor and pathos of the poem made a profound appeal ; 
in fact, Scott was now the most popular poet of the day. 
In 1808 Marmion, a tale of Flodden Field, with its powerful 
battle pictures and compelling vigor of action, added to his 
fame ; and two years later The Lady of the Lake, a magnetic 
story of love and war, and the most popular if not the great- 
est of all his metrical romances, sent thousands of people to 
Loch Katrine to behold the scenes described. 

The year 1811, however, brought a turning point in Scott’s 
life. In that year he made the first of a series of purchases 
of wild moorland on the Tweed, thirty miles from Edinburgh, 
where he proceeded to erect a mansion of Gothic architecture 
at the expense of $150,000, worthy of a man who had the 
ambition to become “the founder of a race of Scotch lairds” 
and to do the “honors for all Scotland.” The same year 
Byron’s star appeared on the horizon. The first two cantos 
of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage convinced Scott of his own 
inferiority. “He hits the mark where I don’t even pretend 
to fledge my arrow,” he remarked on reading an autographed 
copy of Byron’s The Giaour in 1813. A small incident finally 
crystallized his determination to quit poetry. While search- 
ing for some fishing tackle — it is a twice-told tale — he came 
across some manuscript which he had discarded nine years 
before, read it with interest (as a pupil does an old theme 
which he has forgotten), hurriedly finished it, and in 1814 
gave it to the world in Waverley, a story of Charles Edward’s 
unsuccessful attempt to restore the Stuart monarchy in 1745. 
Scott wrote Rokeby in 1812, The Bridal of Triermain in 1813, 
and The Lord of the Isles and Harold the Dauntless in 1817 ; 
but all, except possibly The Lord of the Isles, were not in his 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION 


best vein, for his heart was already in the field of prose, 
where he was to win his greatest triumphs. 

The success of Waverley convinced Scott that he had found 
his field. In the next sixteen years he averaged nearly two 
novels a year, among the greatest of which are Guy Manner - 
ing (1815), Old Mortality (1817), Rob Roy (1817), The Heart 
of Midlothian (1818), The Bride of Lammermoor (1819), A 
Legend of Montrose (1819), Ivanhoe (1820), Kenilworth (1821), 
Quentin Durward (1823), and The Talisman (1825). Old 
Mortality, a thrilling tale of the Scotch Covenanters, was 
thought by Tennyson to be the greatest of all Scott’s 
novels ; and when Lord Holland was asked his opinion of it, 
“Opinion!” he exclaimed, “we did not one of us go to bed 
last night — nothing slept but my gout.” The Heart of Mid- 
lothian, in the opinion of Andrew Lang, is “unrivaled.” This 
touching story of Jeanie Deans was also Scott’s favorite; 
“the lass kept tugging at my heart strings,” he said. The 
Bride of Lammermoor, the only novel emphasizing the emo- 
tion of love, was, in the opinion of Gladstone, worthy of an 
TEschylus. In Ivanhoe Scott turned away from Scottish sub- 
jects and wrote a vivid story of English castles and knights 
of the Norman period ; and in Kenilworth he dwelt with the 
“spacious times of great Elizabeth.” In Quentin Durward 
his genius leaped to France in the time of Louis XI, and in 
The Talisman he took his reader on a crusade. But wherever 
he roamed in his imagination, he peopled the silent centuries. 
He taught men, as Carlyle said, that “by-gone ages were 
actually filled by living men, not by protocols, state papers, 
controversies, and abstractions of men.” Meanwhile he 
had been made a baronet by King George in 1820, and had 
been realizing at Abbotsford some of the baronial life which 
glittered in his ambition, entertaining with princely hospitality 
people of many types. 


SIR WALTER SCOTT 


XV 


But in 1826, while he was writing Woodstock, his dreams 
were shattered. In 1802 he had loaned some money to a 
schoolmate, James Ballantyne, and had later united with 
James and his brother, first as printers, then as publishers. 
Both these firms in turn had become associated with Archi- 
bald Constable, publisher, whose sudden failure in 1826 
involved the Ballantynes to the extent of more than half a 
million dollars. Scott’s partnership had been kept secret, 
but now the truth came out. He might have taken refuge 
in the bankruptcy laws; he might have accepted proffered 
aid; but he scorned them both, and, at the age of fifty-five, 
assumed the whole debt as his own. “If I live and retain 
my health,” he said, “no one shall lose a penny by me.” 
Friends tried to help him, but he replied proudly, “This 
right hand shall work it all off.” He even offered to give 
up Abbotsford, the “dream come true,” but the creditors 
magnanimously refused it. Four months after the failure, 
Lady Scott died; but like Longfellow, Browning, and other 
great souls in affliction, Scott buried his sorrow in his task. 
In two years, largely through the sale of Woodstock and a 
life of Napoleon in eight volumes, he earned $200,000; in 
two more years, through a new edition of the novels, and 
several new novels, stories, letters, and dramatic pieces, he 
earned another $100,000. In 1830 he had a stroke of paraly- 
sis, but he kept at work — “at sea in the dark,” wrote he, 
“and the vessel leaky.” His last novels, Count Robert of 
Paris and Castle Dangerous, were inferior, but the failing 
mind did its best. In the heroic struggle, as Lockhart said 
so aptly, “the gentleman survived the genius.” Not long 
after Scott’s death the debt was paid. 

Scott’s last days were full of pathos and beauty. The 
British government sent him to the Mediterranean on the 
frigate Barham. 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION 


Blessings and prayer in nobler retinue 

Than sceptered king or laurell’d Conqueror knows 

followed the “wondrous Potentate,” wrote Wordsworth; but 
the journey did little good. While at Naples, the news of 
Goethe’s death reached him. “He at least died at home,” 
said Scott; “let us to Abbotsford.” On the homeward trip 
he suffered another shock, and when at last he looked again 
on the valley of the Tweed, he was barely able to recognize 
the old familiar scenes. Here was the essence of pathos : 
his dogs were happy to see their master and friend, but over 
them “he alternately sobbed and smiled till sleep overtook 
him.” He died September 21, 1832, surrounded by all his 
family. “It was a beautiful day,” says Lockhart — “so 
warm that every window was wide open — and so perfectly 
still that the sound of all others most delicious to his ear, the 
gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly 
audible as we knelt around the bed.” He was buried in the 
beautiful ruins of Dryburgh. 

Scott’s place in literature is unique. Much has been 
written in disparagement. Carlyle complained of his lack 
of depth, Ruskin thought him inartistic, and Mr. How r ells 
once declared that he amuses only young people. “He gives 
us the stir of the world without its soul,” declares Mr. 
Bagehot, the famous English critic. “With the artistic instinct 
granted him in largest measure,” says Professor Cross, “he 
had little of the artistic conscience.” To these criticisms 
Scott himself would doubtless reply that he could only be 
himself — 

On the wild hill 
Let the wild heath-bell flourish still. 

A great lover of outdoor life, he freely admitted his preference 
for “borderers, buccaneers, Highland robbers, and all others 


SIR WALTER SCOTT 


XVII 


of a Robin Hood description.” He had neither talent nor 
leisure to analyze character. He admired the “exquisite 
touch” by which his gifted contemporary Jane Austen could 
make “ordinary commonplace things and characters in- 
teresting”; but his own was “the big bow-wow strain.” 
His romances, as Hutton says, “are pivoted on public rather 
than mere private interests and passions.” He deals with 
Roundheads and Cavaliers, Jacobites and Puritans, clans 
and classes, soldiers and statesmen, kings and queens, moun- 
tains and lakes. His genius is telescopic, not microscopic. 

Above all, therefore, Scott is a narrator. He popularized 
both poetry ,and prose. In his work converge two very im- 
portant movements, the triumph of romantic poetry and 
the rise of the novel. Tempering the exaggerated romance 
of Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto (1764) and Mrs. 
Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794), and spurred on 
by Maria Edgeworth’s Castle Rackrent (1800) and Jane 
Porter’s Scottish Chiefs (1810), he created the historical 
novel, which Professor Stoddard has called “a record of 
individual life, of individual emotion, in circumstances and 
times of historical interest.” His influence in Europe and 
America has been tremendous. In his encyclopedic char- 
acter he pointed forward to Balzac, Dickens, and Thackeray ; 
but “quantity and quality considered,” says Andrew Lang, 
“no man or woman has followed him with such genius as 
his”; and “ in mass and stature,” adds Professor Cross, 
“it may be doubted whether Scott is quite reached by any 
other English novelist.” 

Scott’s popularity remains unassailable. Poems of deeper 
imaginative insight than Scott’s have coiqe from the press 
with almost rhythmic monotony, but readers of Marmion 
and The Lady of the Lake are so moved by their breadth and 
boldness, their wild simplicity and fervent patriotism, that 


INTRODUCTION 


xviii 

henceforth their own souls tramp forth in martial meter. 
Novels with better plots and with characters more human 
than Scott’s have elbowed one another from the bookshelves, 
but readers who have felt the spell of Rob Roy, Ivanhoe, and 
Quentin Durward refuse to give Scott up, for, led by the 
talisman of his genius, they have visited many goodly realms 
and have become a part of all that they have met. The 
Wizard of the North still has power to charm young men 
and maidens, old men and children. That is the acid test. 
Lowell, for instance, read all the Waverley Novels again 
just before he died. 

The final word is inevitable. “In order to write poetry,” 
said a great poet, “one must himself be a poem.” Sir Walter 
Scott wrote well because he lived well. How unanimous is 
the evidence! Wordsworth called Scott “the whole world’s 
darling” ; and Byron, not quick to praise others, pronounced 
him “as nearly a thoroughly good man 'as a man could be.” 
“Oh ! Scott was a master spirit,” wrote Washington Irving — 
“as glorious in his conversation as in his writings. I never 
felt such a consciousness of happiness as when under his roof.” 
Scott was always kind and generous. He praised Words- 
worth’s poetry, which was so different from his own; he 
applauded his rival Byron ; and when offered the position of 
poet laureate, he declined it in favor of Southey, who needed 
the money more than he. Like the good knight Sir Roger de 
Coverley, Scott spoke to all his tenants “as if they were 
blood relations,” as one of them remarked ; and they, in turn, 
named him “but to praise.” His family life was kindness 
itself. A single instance is typical. “Lockhart,” said Scott 
on his death-bed, “I may have but a minute to speak to you. 
My dear, be a good man — be virtuous — be religious — be 
a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when 
you come to lie here.” And when Lockhart asked if he should 


ROB ROY THE NOVEL 


XIX 


send for Sophia and Anne, he replied, “No, don’t disturb 
them. Poor souls ! I know they were up all night — God 
bless you all.” Surely we can take leave of him in the words 
of Tennyson : 

0 great and gallant Scott, 

True gentleman, heart, blood, and bone, 

1 would it had been my lot 

To have seen thee, and heard thee, and known. 


Rob Roy the Novel 

Rob Roy, sixth in the series of Waverley Novels, was pub- 
lished December 31, 1817. The story deals with the Jacobite 
uprising of 1715, as Waverley and Redgauntlet deal with that 
of 1745. The incidents begin a few months before the begin- 
ning of the rebellion in 1715 and end soon after its collapse 
in April, 1716 — a period when the Jacobites were trying to 
win the MacGregors for James. But this discussion, for 
obvious reasons, will deal chiefly with facts that do not ap- 
pear in the story. 

The title was suggested by Constable, who told Lockhart 
many years afterward of the difficulty he had experienced in 
getting it adopted by the author. When Constable first 
suggested that the name of the hero would be the best name 
for the book, Scott replied, “Nay, never let me have to write 
up to a name. You well know that I have generally adopted 
a title that told nothing.” But soon Scott agreed, and began 
the work with alacrity. On one occasion, says Lockhart, 
“he told us he was sure he would make a hit in a Glasgow 
weaver, whom he would ravel up with Rob ; and fairly out- 
shone the Cobbler in an extempore dialogue between the 
bailie and the cateran, something not unlike what the book 
gives us as passing in the Glasgow tolbooth.’’' 


XX 


INTRODUCTION 


In the writing of Rob Roy, Scott drew as usual on oral 
tradition and reminiscence. From an old Lennoxer he had 
learned of a typical experience with Rob and his blackmailers 
when the informant was fifteen. From a grandson of James 
Stuart, the actual liberator, he had learned of Rob Roy’s 
escape at the Fords of Frew, much as it appears in the novel. 
He had led an expedition to Invernenty, in the Braes of Bal- 
quidder, to collect money from a descendant of the actual 
MacClaren whom Rob Roy’s son, Robin Oig, had shot with 
a gun then in Scott’s collection at Abbotsford. He had also 
made an excursion to the Lennox, “chiefly,” says Lockhart, 
“that he might visit a cave at the head of Loch Lomond, 
said to have been a favorite retreat of his hero Rob Roy, 
and thence to Glasgow, where, under the auspices of a kind 
and intelligent acquaintance, Mr. John Smith, bookseller, 
he refreshed his memory concerning the noble cathedral, and 
other localities of the birthplace of Bailie Jarvie.” He had 
also heard the grandfather of his friend George Abercrombie 
tell of a trip he had made to the retreat of Rob Roy. “The 
venerable laird told him he was received by the cateran 
with much courtesy, in a cavern exactly like that of Ben. 
Lean [described in Waverley ], dined on collops cut from some 
of his own cattle, which he recognized hanging by their heels 
from the rocky roof beyond ; and returned in all safety, after 
concluding a bargain of blackmail — in virtue of which 
annual payment, Rob Roy guaranteed the future security 
of his heads against, not his own followers merely, but all 
freebooters whatsoever.” 

In spite of all this knowledge and inspiration, however, 
Scott’s task was a hard one. Afflicted with stomach cramp, 
he struggled either with the pains of the disease or with the 
lassitude of opium. Calling one day for copy, James Ballan- 
tyne was displeased to find Scott with a clean sheet of paper 


ROB ROY THE NOVEL 


XXI 


before him. “Ay, Jemmy,” said the author, “’tis easy for 
you to bid me to get on, but how the deuce can I make Rob’s 
wife speak with such a curmurring in me?” In reality, 
however, Scott had “no idea of these things preventing a 
man from doing what he has in mind,” and just as he created 
the humorous Dalgetty in A Legend of Montrose while in the 
grip of pain, so he made Rob’s wife speak, and speak so that 
the bailie understood. Scott kept doggedly to work, and in 
December the book was finished. 

With great joy 
I send you Roy. 

’Twas a tough job, 

But we’re done with Rob, 

wrote Scott on the final proof-sheet. “Never,” says Andrew 
Lang, “was there a more signal triumph of mind over body.” 

It is interesting to note in passing that Irving’s memorable 
visit to Abbotsford, in August, 1817, fell within the period of 
Rob Roy. One morning after breakfast, while Scott was 
writing a chapter, Irving and young Charles visited Melrose 
Abbey and its beloved “showman,” Johnny Bower. “He’ll 
come here sometimes,” said Johnny, of Scott, “with great 
folks in his company, and the first I’ll know of it is his voice 
calling out Johnny — Johnny Bower! — and when I go out 
I’m sure to be greeted with a joke or a pleasant word. He’ll 
stand and crack an’ laugh wi’ me just like an auld wife — 
and to think that of a man that has such an awful knowledge o’ 
history 1” 

Rob Roy was enthusiastically received. “This is not so 
good, perhaps, as some others of the family,” wrote Francis 
Jeffrey in 1818 ; “ but it is better than anything else ; and has 
a charm and a spirit about it that draws us irresistibly away 
from our graver works of politics and science, to expatiate 


XXI 1 


INTRODUCTION 


upon that which every boy understands and agrees in ; and 
after setting us diligently to read over again what we had 
scarce finished reading, leaves us no choice but to tell our 
readers what they all know already, and to persuade them of 
that of which they are most intimately convinced.” “Rob 
and his wife, Bailie Jar vie and his housekeeper, Diana Vernon 
and Rashleigh Osbaldistone — these boldly drawn and happily 
contrasted personages were welcomed as warmly as the most 
fortunate of their predecessors,” says Lockhart. “Con- 
stable’s resolution to begin with an edition of ten thousand 
proved to have been as sagacious as brave, for within a fort- 
night three thousand more were called for.” An entire 
cargo of a smack from Leith to London was ten thousand 
copies of Rob Roy — an unprecedented event both in litera- 
ture and in custom house annals. 

The dramatization of Rob Roy by William Murray was 
almost immediate. In February, 1819, Scott himself wit- 
nessed the play in Edinburgh. “The manager’s own Captain 
Thornton was excellent — and so was the Dougal Creature of 
a Mr. Duff — there was also a good Mattie (about whose 
equipment, by the by, Scott felt such interest that he left 
the box between the acts to remind Mr. Murray that she 
‘must have a mantle with her lanthorn’) ; but the great and 
unrivaled attraction was the personification of Bailie Jarvie, 
by Charles Mackay, who, being himself a native of Glasgow, 
entered into the minutest peculiarities of the character with 
high gusto, and gave the west-country dialect in its most 
racy perfection.” The play had a continuous run of forty- 
one nights, and later was reproduced in the presence of the 
king. “The audience,” says Lockhart, “was enchanted with 
the king’s hearty laughter at Bailie Jarvie’s jokes; — but I 
particularly remember his majesty’s shout at Mattie’s ‘nane 
o’ your Lunnon tricks.’” 


ROB ROY THE NOVEL xxiii 

For just a hundred years Rob Roy has enjoyed a great 
vogue. Characterization, scenery, and history conspire to 
give it real charm. ( ‘Rob is great,” said Goethe in 1831 — 
“material, import, characters, execution; and then what 
infinite diligence in the preparatory studies! What truth 
of detail in the execution! We see, too, what English his- 
tory is.” The adventurous element is also strong, the humor 
sympathetic, and the dialect has enriched the speech of the 
multitude. “Indeed few of Scott’s works have more readers,” 
wrote Hunnewell in 1871, “or so abound in picturesque in- 
cidents and persons.” 

“Since Shakespeare’s time,” says Crockett, in The Scott 
Originals, “no writer has given us so truly great and su- 
perlative creations as Scott has. He reaches Himalaya 
heights in such a character as Jeanie Deans, for instance ; or 
in Rebecca of York with her peerless sacrifice; or in Diana 
Vernon and her sprightliness. Di Vernon is the most fas- 
cinating of the trio just mentioned. . . . [She] is utterly 
unlike any other of the Waverley heroines. Rather does 
she count cousin with the Rosalinds, the Portias, the Bea- 
trices, the Imogens — those ‘deathless daughters of dreams.’ 
She has all their qualities. ‘Like them, she is witty and 
loving; like them, she plays on every note, passing from 
playful authority to serious heroism, and, like them, melting 
into womanly tenderness. She brightens the world as she 
passes !’” 1 

Finally we may quote from Leslie Stephen : “The Bailie is 
for all time the classic figure of the pawky Lowland merchant 
— hard, but honest, natural and simply cynical, but kindly, 
good-natured, ever humorous — as true a being of flesh and 
blood as ever trod the ‘Saut Market.”’ 


Quoted by permission of the publishers. 


XXIV 


INTRODUCTION 


Historical Sketch 

The fullest enjoyment of Rob Roy depends upon a knowl- 
edge of English history, especially of the period from 1688 
to 1715, when, according to the novel, “the great party 
questions of Jacobite and Hanoverian divided the country 
so completely.” 

The famous Revolution of 1688 set aside the Catholic 
line of Stuarts in the person of the ignoble James II and 
brought to the throne William III, Prince of Orange, and 
Mary, whose mother was a daughter of Charles I of Eng- 
land. William’s progress in England was rapid and 
bloodless, but in Scotland and Ireland he met with op- 
position. At the Battle of Killiecrankie, in the high- 
lands of northern Scotland, in 1689, Graham of Claver- 
house, “Viscount Dundee,” who had served in the Dutch 
army under the Prince of Orange, and whom Scott eu- 
logized in Old Mortality, led the Highland clans, who had 
been concerned only with petty jealousies, against Mackay, 
in command of the king’s army. Claverhouse won the 
battle, but lost his life. The engagement, however, with 
the battle of the Boyne in Ireland in 1690, broke the spirit 
of the Jacobites, or adherents of James. The Scotch clans 
finally submitted, and were commanded to take the oath 
of allegiance before January 1, 1692. The Macdonalds 
of Glencoe, through no fault of their own, failed to sub- 
mit within the appointed time and were treacherously 
slaughtered. 

William prolonged the battle for Protestantism and 
political liberty in both Holland and England. Through 
his Irish and continental wars with James and Louis, 
some historians think that he did more than any other one 
man — Cromwell excepted — to make England free. The 


HISTORICAL SKETCH 


XXV 


peace of Ryswick in 1697 ended nine years of war between 
France and Great Britain, Spain, and Holland. In 1701 
the Act of Settlement confirmed the Bill of Rights of 1689 
and established a new royal line of Protestant sovereigns. 

On the death of James, which occurred just before Wil- 
liam’s, Louis XIV of France declared James Edward, son 
of the exiled monarch, the rightful heir to the English 
throne. The result was the War of the Succession. Queen 
Anne, sister-in-law of William, was not just the person to 
resolve the political confusion. “When in good humor,” 
says Macaulay, “she was meekly stupid, and when in ill 
humor sulkily stupid.” Her entire reign, which extended 
from 1702 to 1714, was blighted by strife at home and war 
abroad. In 1707 the crowns of Scotland and England 
were united and the Scottish parliament merged with the 
English. But the War of Succession was the chief business 
of the time; for although the war came to include many 
other questions, it had been begun by England to prevent 
Louis from placing the “Pretender,” as Anne dubbed James 
Edward, on the throne. The Tories, through Mrs. 
Masham and her compatriots, stood for peace and the 
divine right, the extremists among them even hoping for 
the restoration of the Roman Catholic Stuarts in the per- 
son of the Pretender; while Sarah Jennings, Duchess of 
Marlborough, tried to keep up the war and keep out the 
Pretender. The political confusion, so clearly reflected 
in Addison’s Spectator Papers and the works of Pope, 
Swift, and Defoe, and more recently in Macaulay’s His- 
tory and Thackeray’s historical novel, Henry Esmond , came 
to its own in the Duke of Marlborough, statesman and gen- 
eral. The Duke had been a Tory, but personal interest led 
him to the Whigs. King James trusted him, but the Duke 
deserted him and went over to William. William trusted 


XXVI 


INTRODUCTION 


him, but he opened correspondence with James Edward. 
Anne admired him, but still he dickered with the Pretender. 

The war resulted in the defeat of Louis. By the Peace of 
Utrecht in 1713 the French king acknowledged the Prot- 
estant succession in England, and expelled the Pretender 
from “the mock court of the Stuarts” at St. Germains, near 
Paris. Thus the Act of Settlement was confirmed. 

With Anne’s death in 1714 the Stuart power ended. In 
lieu of a healthy Stuart heir, the crown passed to George I 
of Hanover, a Protestant descendant of James I of England. 
The King’s Whig parliament immediately impeached the Tory 
leaders for treasonable correspondence with the exiled Stuarts ; 
Oxford was imprisoned, Bolingbroke and Ormond fled to 
France. This harshness and the King’s favoritism in gen- 
eral enraged the Tories; and the Jacobites, or extreme 
members of the party in Scotland, with secret aid from Eng- 
land, started a rebellion in 1715 to put the Pretender on the 
throne. This insurrection, called the “Fifteen,” was led by 
the Earl of Mar. The Earl, who had changed his politics 
so often that he was dubbed Bobbing John, fought an in- 
decisive battle at Sheriffmuir, in Perthshire, in 1715. Says 
the pertinent old ballad : 

“There’s some say that we won, and some say that 
they won, 

And some say that none won at a’, man ; 

But one thing is sure, that at Sheriffmuir 

A battle there was, which I saw, man.” 

With the English, however, remained the advantage, for the 
battle prevented the Scotch from invading England. More- 
over, on the same day a small army of English Jacobites 
surrendered at Preston, near Liverpool, without a fight. 
The leaders of the insurrection, except Mar and one or two 


THE CLAN MACGREGOR 


XXVU 


who escaped to the continent, were executed, and a thousand 
soldiers were sent into slavery in the West Indies. 

The next and last attempt of the Stuarts was in 1745 — 
the “Forty-five ” — when Charles Edward, the Young Pre- 
tender, raised the standard of insurrection. At Prestonpans, 
near Edinburgh, in September, 1745, and at Falkirk, in 
Stirlingshire, in January, 1746, he defeated the King’s forces; 
but in Derbyshire, England, he found little support, and at 
Culloden, in northern Scotland, he was defeated with slaughter 
in April. When he died in Rome, in 1788, just a century after 
the exile of his grandfather, the fall of the house of Stuart was 
complete. 

For a touching picture of the Jacobite’s devotion to a hope- 
less cause the reader is referred to Scott’s Waverley and 
Redgauntlet and to the ballad literature of the time. 

Rob Roy and the Clan MacGregor 

The name Rob Roy vibrates with association and power. 
No character has maintained greater importance in popular 
recollection. This popularity cannot be due to a distinction 
of birth which gave him any natural right to command in 
his clan. It cannot be due to his original and enterprising 
feats, for these certainly were not greater than those of 
other freebooters who are less distinguished. Nor is his 
fame due to the fascinating way in which history blends 
into tradition, thus conjuring up all the mystery which 
dwells on the boundary-line between fact and fiction. In 
great measure, said Scott himself, he owed his fame to his 

residing on the very verge of the Highlands, and playing such 
pranks in the beginning of the 18th century, as are usually 
ascribed to Robin Hood in the middle ages, — and that 
within forty miles of Glasgow, a great commercial city, the 
seat of a learned university. Thus a character like his, blend- 


INTRODUCTION 


xxviii 

mg the wild virtues, the subtle policy, and unrestrained licence 
of an American Indian, was flourishing in Scotland during the 
Augustan age of Queen Anne and George I. Addison, it is 
probable, or Pope, would have been considerably surprised if 
they had known that there existed in the same island with 
them a personage of Rob Roy’s peculiar habits and profession. 
It is this strong contrast betwixt the civilized and cultivated 
mode of life on the one side of the Highland line, and the wild 
and lawless adventures which were habitually undertaken and 
achieved by one who dwelt on the opposite side of that ideal 
boundary, which creates the interest attached to his name. 
Hence it is that even yet, 

Far and near, through vale and hill, 

Are faces that attest the same, 

And kindle like a fire new stirr’d, 

At sound of Rob Roy’s name. 1 

The history of the MacGregor clan, to which Rob Roy 
belonged, was not unlike that of several others of the original 
Highland clans who were suppressed by more powerful neigh- 
bors and who were either obliterated or forced to secure them- 
selves by renouncing their name and adopting that of their 
conquerors. The sept, or clan, claimed descent from Gregor, 
or Gregorius, a son of Alpin, King of Scots, who flourished 
about 787 ; hence the original patronymic MacAlpine, and 
the usual name Clan Alpine. Original Celts, they had large 
possessions in Perthshire and Argyleshire; but the Earls of 
Argyle and Breadalbane easily made inroads on the Mac- 
Gregor territory through legal rights included in their char- 
ters from the crown. Such encroachments continued, and 
the tenacious clan, driven more and more iniquitously from 
their possessions, began to retaliate. This natural retalia- 
tion was in turn misrepresented at the capital as arising from 

1 This and other extracts, unless otherwise indicated, are from 
Scott’s long Introduction, which the editor has abridged and, in a 
few cases, modified in the light of later investigation. 


THE CLAN MACGREGOR 


XXIX 


untamable ferocity and led to organized effort to cut off the 
clan root and branch. David II, son of Robert Bruce, began 
the oppression in the fourteenth century by wrongly be- 
stowing the MacGregor lands upon the rival clan Campbell. 
Two centuries later, in 1563, two acts allowed nobles and 
chiefs of clans to pursue the clan MacGregor with fire and 
sword. Then followed an era of struggle and retaliation, 
vengeance and violence. Law was cruelly outraged and 
brutally avenged. The Scottish parliament passed acts of 
“ ferocious brevity and directness.” The heroism of the 
MacGregors was considered lawlessness, and food, shelter, 
and livelihood were denied the “wicked clan, so long con- 
tinuing in blood, slaughter, theft, and robbery/’ in the words 
of one of the acts. 

A crisis came in the battle of Glenfruin, fought between 
the MacGregors and the powerful clan Colquhoun in 1592 
on the southwestern shore of Loch Lomond. Between the 
clans there had long been a feud, but the only pretext for 
the bloody conflict was the fact that the Laird of Luss, of 
the Colquhouns, had executed two MacGregors for “lifting” 
a sheep. The MacGregors, led by Allaster MacGregor of 
Glenstrae, somewhat discouraged by the appearance of a 
force much superior to their own, were cheered on the attack, 


by a Seer, or second-sighted person, who professed that he 
saw the shrouds of the dead wrapt around their principal 
opponents. The clan charged with great fury on the front 
of the enemy, while John MacGregor, with a strong party, 
made an unexpected attack on the flank. A great part of 
the Colquhouns’ force consisted in cavalry, which could not 
act in the boggy ground. They were said to have disputed 
the field manfully, but were at length completely routed, 
and a merciless slaughter was exercised on the fugitives, of 
whom betwixt two and three hundred fell on the field, and 
in the pursuit. 


XXX 


INTRODUCTION 


The most famous of the MacGregors was a foster brother of 
Allaster, Dugald Ciar Mohr, the “great mouse-colored man,” 
so called from the color of his face and hair. Dugald was an 
outlaw of enormous strength and ferocious spirit. He is 
claimed by some authorities to have murdered a party of 
students who had imprudently come to witness the battle. 
Popular tradition has added still other horrors. It is claimed 
that Sir Humphrey Colquhoun, who escaped on horseback 
to the castle of Benechra, was next day dragged out and 
murdered in cold blood. 

The battle of Glenfruin was immediately avenged. That 
James might fully understand the extent of the slaughter 

the widows of the slain, to the number of eleven score, in 
deep mourning, riding upon white palfreys, and each bearing 
her husband’s bloody shirt on a spear, appeared at Stirling, 
in presence of a monarch peculiarly accessible to such sights 
of fear and sorrow, to demand vengeance for the death of 
their husbands, upon those by whom they had been made 
desolate. 

The remedy was at least as bad as the disease. In 1603, by 
act of the privy council, the name MacGregor was abolished, 
and those who had borne it were commanded to take other 
surnames on penalty of death. All those who had fought 
at Glenfruin were prohibited from carrying weapons except 
pointed knives to assist them at their meals. Moreover, in 
1613 death was decreed for all MacGregors who should “pre- 
sume to assemble in greater numbers than four”; and three 
years later all these laws were continued and extended to the 
rising generation, “who, if permitted to resume the name 
of their parents, would render the clan as strong as it was 
before.” On false assurances, Allaster MacGregor sur- 
rendered and was convicted and hanged. An old account 


THE CLAN MACGREGOR 


XXXI 


tells us that he was suspended higher by his height 
than two of his kindred, “by merit raised to that bad 
eminence.” 

Rob Roy MacGregor Campbell, which last name he bore 
because of the acts of parliament abolishing his own, was a 
descendant of Dugald Ciar Mohr, the great “mouse-colored 
man” of Glenfruin. He was born, probably in Buchanan 
Parish, Stirlingshire, but perhaps in Glengyle or Balquidder, 
in 1671. He was the younger son of Donald MacGregor of 
Glengyle, who was said to have been a lieutenant-colonel in 
the army of James II. His mother was a Campbell of Glen- 
falloch. Rob’s own designation was of Iversnaid; but he 
appears to have acquired, by purchase, wadset, or otherwise, 
a right of some kind to the possession of Craig Royston, a 
domain of rock and forest on the eastern side of Loch Lo- 
mond, where that beautiful lake stretches into the dusky 
mountains of Glenfalloch. The region to the northeast, 
between Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine, was the Mac- 
Gregor country. On the eastern shore of Loch Lomond, 
under the shadow of Ben Lomond, was Rob Roy’s prison, 
and farther north his cave. To the latter he frequently 
retreated when hard pressed. The cave does not appear 
in Rob Roy, but it is the cave of Ben Lean in Waverley and 
in 1306 had sheltered the Scotch hero Robert Bruce. 

Rob came into prominence immediately after the Revolu- 
tion of 1688. Obtaining a commission from James II, the 
exiled king, he led a predatory incursion into the Lennox in 
1691. Later he won the favor of his nearest and most power- 
ful neighbor, James, Duke of Montrose, who gave Rob and 
his nephew a right of property on the estates of Glengyle 
and Iversnaid, and also loans of money for cattle trades in 
the general interest of the country and of the Duke’s estate. 
But in 1712 came a sudden fluctuation. Rob absconded with 


XXXI 1 


INTRODUCTION 


£1000. Three advertisements concerning him were printed 
in Edinburgh newspapers in 1712. The year 1712, there- 
fore, marks the date of Rob’s change from respectable com- 
mercial adventures to speculation. 

Montrose, thinking himself deceived and cheated, attached 
Rob’s landed property, and made his stock and furniture the 
subject of arrest and sale. Rob was turned out of Craig 
Royston and outlawed. To make matters worse, legal 
agents of the Duke who had been sent to expel the Mac- 
Gregors from Loch Lomond insulted Rob’s wife, who gave 
vent to her feelings in a fine piece of pipe-music still known 
to amateurs as “Rob Roy’s Lament.” But Rob was not 
without ostensible friends. The Duke of Argyle, 1 Mont- 
rose’s rival, and Rob’s chief “protector,” offered him “wood 
and water,” that is, the protection of forest and lake. The 
extent of Argyle’s possessions in Argyleshire, and the power 
of retreating thither in any emergency, gave great encourage- 
ment to Rob’s bold scheme of revenge. This was nothing 
more nor less than a predatory war on Montrose, in which 
the Highlander usually had the better of it. Not only would 
Rob’s friends mislead and betray the expeditions sent out by 
Montrose, but Rob himself was almost sure to be Johnny-on- 
the-spot and carry off everything in sight. Rob also found 
it convenient to extend his raids beyond the limits of the 
Duke’s circle ; calling himself a Jacobite, he raided all whom 
he considered friendly to the revolutionary government or 
that “most obnoxious of measures,” the Union of 1707. 

In the Jacobite uprising of 1715 Rob Roy’s conduct was 
equivocal. His Jacobite partialities placed him in opposi- 
tion to his sense of obligation to the Duke of Argyle. The 
desire of “drowning his sounding steps amid the din of gen- 

1 For consistency Scott’s spelling is adopted ; the family spell- 
ing has long been Argyll. 


THE CLAN MACGREGOR 


XXX111 


eral war” forced him to the Earl of Mar, leader of the Jaco- 
bites, although his patron Argyle was at the head of the army 
opposed to the Highland insurgents. Thus his person and 
followers were in the Highland army, but his heart was with 
the Duke. Yet the insurgents were constrained to trust 
him as a guide, when they marched from Perth to Dunblane, 
though they had admitted that he could not be relied upon. 
This movement, it will be remembered, brought on the 
battle of Sheriffmuir. In the battle, says Scott, 

the right wing of the Highlanders broke and cut to pieces 
Argyle’s left wing, while the clans on the left of Mar’s army, 
though consisting of Stewarts, Mackenzies, and Camerons, 
were completely routed. During this medley of flight and 
pursuit, Rob Roy retained his station on a hill in the centre 
of the Highland position ; and though it is said his attack 
might have decided the day, he could not be prevailed upon 
to charge. This was the more unfortunate for the insurgents, 
as the leading of a party of the Macphersons had been com- 
mitted to MacGregor. This, it is said, was owing to the age 
and infirmity of the chief of that name, who, unable to lead 
his clan in person, objected to his heir-apparent, Macpherson 
of Nord, discharging his duty on that occasion ; so that the 
tribe, or a part of them, were brigaded with their allies the 
MacGregors. While the favourable moment for action was 
gliding away unemployed, Mar’s positive orders reached Rob 
Roy that he should presently attack. To which he coolly 
replied, “No, no! if they cannot do it without me, they can- 
not do it with me.” 


Moreover, in the confusion Rob enriched his followers by 
plundering the baggage and the dead on both sides. The 
fine old ballad of Sheriffmuir thus stigmatizes our hero : 


Rob Roy he stood watch 
On a hill for to catch 

The booty, for aught that I saw, man ; 


XXXIV 


INTRODUCTION 


For he ne’er advanced 

From the place where he stanced, 

Till nae mair was to do there at a’, man. 

At any rate, he took little part and escaped persecution. 

In spite of this curious neutrality, Rob obtained the favor 
of Col. Patrick Campbell, and with about fifty followers 
reestablished himself at Craig Royston, and immediately 
resumed his quarrel with Montrose. The Duke, in retalia- 
tion, sent three parties, accompanied by a relative, John 
Graham of Killearn, intending to have the columns arrive at 
the same time near Rob’s fastness ; but heavy rains and the 
outlaw’s mysterious knowledge of the expedition prevented 
the issue. 

One incident that is vouched for as fact has all the. ele- 
ments of romance. In November, 1716, Rob suddenly ap- 
peared at Chapel Errock, where the Duke’s tenants were 
paying their rents — for since Rob had been outlawed by 
the Duke, he concluded to make the Duke support him. 
Roy entered the room at the head of an armed party. 

The steward endeavoured to protect the Duke’s property by 
throwing the books of accounts and money into a garret, 
trusting they might escape notice. But the experienced free- 
booter was not to be baffled where such a prize was at stake. 
He recovered the books and cash, placed himself calmly in 
the receipt of custom, examined the accounts, pocketed the 
money, and gave receipts on the Duke’s part, saying he would 
hold reckoning with the Duke of Montrose out of the damages 
which he had sustained by his Grace’s means, in which he in- 
cluded the losses he had suffered, as well by the burning of his 
house by General Cadogan, as by the later expedition against 
Craig Royston. 

He then held Graham five days on an island in the upper 
end of Loch Katrine, meanwhile forcing him to write the 
Duke that his ransom was 3400 marks, the balance which 


THE CLAN MACGREGOR 


XXXV 


Rob pretended remained due him after deducting all he 
owed the Duke. Perhaps, according to Rob’s custom on 
the ledges of Loch Lomond, Graham was suspended by a 
rope from a projecting rock, where he was invited to discuss 
the conditions of ransom. At any rate, Graham was re- 
leased, and Rob kept the cash. 

On another occasion (perhaps the same by another version) 
Rob Roy surprised Graham counting his rent money. Al- 
though Rob had with him only one man, “he gave orders in 
a loud voice to place two men at each window and four at 
each of the doors, as if he had twenty men.” Then he ordered 
Killearn to give him all the money on account. 

Meanwhile a garrison was established by the government 
near Iversnaid, at a point about midway between Loch 
Lomond and Loch Katrine; but Rob surprised the Com- 
mander, disarmed the soldiers, and destroyed the fortification. 1 

At an uncertain date, probably about 1715, Rob Roy 
became a contractor for the police, a lifter of blackmail, 
“tribute for forbearance and protection.” The nature of 
this contract is fully explained in Scott’s note to the fifteenth 
chapter of Waverley. Here two or three typical incidents 
must suffice. 

The minister of the parish of Balquidder, whose name was 
Robison, says Scott, was at one time threatening to pursue 
the parish for an augmentation of his stipend. Rob Roy took 
an opportunity to assure him that he would do well to abstain 
from this new exaction, — a hint which the minister did not 
fail to understand. But to make him some indemnification, 
MacGregor presented him every year with a cow and a fat 
sheep ; and no scruples as to the mode in which the donor 
came by them, are said to have affected the reverend gentle- 
man’s conscience. 

1 Many years later the fort was rebuilt, and was under the 
command of General Wolfe, who won fame at Quebec in 1759. 


XXXVI 


INTRODUCTION 


Scott narrates at length an incident which “contains 
materials for both the poet and the artist.” A gentleman 
in the Lennox, discovering the loss of ten or twelve cattle, 
sent for Rob Roy, who arrived promptly with seven or eight 
armed men. Rob promised to find the cattle, but com- 
manded that two Lowlanders go with him to drive them 
home. The two selected were Scott’s informant, then a 
young boy, and his father. They not only recovered the 
cattle, but the outlaw accorded them great kindness and 
courtesy, in that he directed one of his followers to give the 
father a part of his plaid during the bitter cold night ; while 
the young man, after being told that he could keep warm 
watching the cattle — when “in the bitterness of the night 
he cursed the bright moon for giving no heat with so much 
light” — stole under the plaid of another Highlander and 
slept undisturbed. 

Scott tells 1 another “merry incident,” which he had heard 
“from the mouth of an old Highland kern,” once a follower 
of Rob Roy. Rob “thought proper to descend upon the 
lower part of the Loch Lomond district, and summoned all 
the heritors and farmers to meet him at the kirk of Drymen, 
to pay him blackmail. As this invitation was supported by 
a band of thirty or forty stout fellows, only one gentleman 
ventured to decline compliance. Rob Roy instantly swept 
his land of all he could drive away, and among the spoil was 
a bull of the old Scottish wild breed, whose ferocity occasioned 
great plague to the Ketterans. ‘But ere we had reached the 
Row of Dennan,’ said the old man, ‘a child might have 
scratched his ears.’” 

It was perhaps about the same time that, by a rapid march 
into the Balquidder hills at the head of a body of his own 

1 Note to The Lady of the Lake, Canto IV, line 68. 


THE CLAN MACGREGOR 


XXXV11 


tenantry, the Duke of Montrose actually surprised Rob Roy, 
and made him prisoner. He was mounted behind one of the 
Duke’s followers, named James Stewart, and made fast to 
him by a horse-girth. The person who had him thus in charge 
was grandfather of the intelligent man of the same name, now 
deceased, who lately kept the inn in the vicinity of Loch 
Katrine, and acted as a guide to visitors through that beau- 
tiful scenery. From him I learned the story many years 
before he was either a publican, or a guide, except to moorfowl 
shooters. — It was evening (to resume the story), and the 
Duke was pressing on to lodge his prisoner, so long sought 
after in vain, in some place of security, when, in crossing the 
Teith or Forth, I forget which, MacGregor took an oppor- 
tunity to conjure Stewart, by all the ties of old acquaintance 
and good-neighbourhood, to give him some chance of an es- 
cape from an assured doom. Stewart was moved with com- 
passion, perhaps with fear. He slipped the girth-buckle, and 
Rob, dropping down from behind the horse’s croupe, dived, 
swam, and escaped, pretty much as described in the Novel. 
When James Stewart came on shore, the Duke hastily de- 
manded where his prisoner was; and as no distinct answer 
was returned, instantly suspected Stewart’s connivance at 
the escape of the outlaw; and, drawing a steel pistol from 
his belt, struck him down with a blow on the head, from the 
effects of which, his descendant said, he never completely 
recovered. 


Roy’s repeated escapes from the Duke finally led him to 
write a mock challenge to his more civilised enemy designed 
to amuse his friends over the bottle. This challenge bears 
the date 1719, the date of Robinson Crusoe by Defoe, whose 
book on the Highland Rogue in 1723 dealt with Rob Roy, in 
spite of Scott’s inference that Defoe knew little or nothing 
of the famous outlaw. 

In 1722 Rob Roy submitted to the authorities and was 
imprisoned in Newgate, and in 1727 was sentenced to trans- 
portation to the Barbadoes in the West Indies, but was 
reprieved. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxxviii 

As Rob advanced in years he grew more peaceable, and 
late in life embraced the Catholic faith. 


When he found himself approaching his final change, he 
expressed some contrition for particular parts of his life. His 
wife laughed at these scruples of conscience, and exhorted him 
to die like a man, as he had lived. In reply, he rebuked her 
for her violent passions, and the counsels she had given him. 
“ You have put strife, ” he said, “ betwixt me and the best men 
of the country, and now you would place enmity between me 
and my God. ” 

There is a tradition, no way inconsistent with the former, 
if the character of Rob Roy be justly considered, that while 
on his death-bed, he learned that a person, with whom he was 
at enmity, proposed to visit him. “ Raise me from my bed, ” 
said the invalid ; “ throw my plaid around me, and bring me 
my claymore, dirk, and pistols — it shall never be said that 
a foeman saw Rob Roy MacGregor defenceless and unarmed. ” 
His foeman, conjectured to be one of the MacLarens before 
and after mentioned, entered and paid his compliments, en- 
quiring after the health of his formidable neighbour. Rob 
Roy maintained a cold, haughty civility during their short 
conference, and so soon as he had left the house, “Now,” he 
said, “ all is over — let the piper play Ha til mi tulidh (we re- 
turn no more)/’ and he is said to have expired before the dirge 
was finished. 


Rob’s death, in place and time, was consistent with his 
birth. He died in several places. Most authorities name 
Balquidder, and one of them insists that he died in his own 
bed. Scott says that he survived the year 1738, but more 
recent investigation puts the date 1734. He sleeps, char- 
acteristically enough, under a “borrowed” tombstone, in 
the old churchyard at Balquidder. The stone is ancient, 
like those of his wife and son near by. The ruined church, 
with its ivy-mantled walls, probably dates from the twelfth 
century. Thus, even in death, romance lived on. 


THE CLAN MACGREGOR 


XXXIX 


A brief reference to Rob’s family, and then this sketch is 
done. His widow, who has been the subject of controversy, 
is thought by some authorities to have been “an Ate stirring 
up blood and strife.” Under her instigation, it is believed, 
Robin Oig, or young Robin, one of the four sons, swore that 
as soon as he could get back a certain gun which had be- 
longed to his father and had been lately at Doune to be re- 
paired, he would shoot MacLaren for having presumed to 
settle on his mother’s land. He was as good as his word, 
and shot MacLaren at his plough, wounding him mortally. 
The fatal gun was taken from Robin Oig when he was seized 
several years later, and is now in the Scott collection at 
Abbotsford. It is a Spanish-barreled gun, marked with the 
letters R. M. C., for Robert MacGregor Campbell. Mean- 
while Rob’s nephew Ghlume renounced the quarrel with 
Montrose, who in turn won the friendship of the MacGregors 
by a policy of kindness and conciliation. 

In the insurrection of 1745 another son, James Roy, dis- 
tinguished himself at Prestonpans, where the Young Pre- 
tender defeated the English army. “His Company,” says 
Johnstone, “did great execution with their scythes.” 

They cut the legs of the horses in two, the riders through 
the middle of their bodies. MacGregor was brave and in- 
trepid, but, at the same time, somewhat whimsical and sin- 
gular. When advancing to the charge with his company, he 
received five wounds, two of them from balls that pierced 
his body through and through. Stretched on the ground, 
with his head resting on his hand, he called out loudly to the 
Highlanders of his company, “ My lads, I am not dead. I 
shall see if any of you does not do his duty. ” The victory, 
as is well known, was instantly obtained. 

James Roy at this time was a married man with fourteen 
children. But Robin Oig, a widower, carried off and married 


xl 


INTRODUCTION 


in 1750 Jean Key, or Wright, a young woman scarce twenty 
and only two months a widow. Scott gives a long account 
of this crime, which was common in those days in the more 
lawless portions of both Scotland and Ireland. Robin Oig 
was condemned to death and executed in 1754. He figures 
in Stevenson’s Kidnapped. 

“It is a most extraordinary proof of the ardent and in- 
vincible spirit of clanship,” says Scott in The Lady of the Lake 
(1810), concerning the Campbells, “that, notwithstanding the 
repeated proscriptions providently ordained by the legis- 
lators, they were, in 1715 and 1745, a potent clan, and con- 
tinue to subsist as a distinct and numerous race.” 


Scott’s Description of Rob Roy 

Rob Roy, says Scott in his long Introduction to the novel, 
was singularly adapted for his profession. 

His stature was not of the tallest, but his person was un- 
commonly strong and compact. The greatest peculiarities of 
his frame were the breadth of his shoulders, and the great and 
almost disproportioned length of his arms ; so remarkable, 
indeed, that it was said he could, without stooping, tie the 
garters of his Highland hose, which are placed two inches 
below the knee. His countenance was open, manly, stern at 
periods of danger, but frank and cheerful in his hours of festiv- 
ity. His hair was dark red, thick, and frizzled, and curled 
short around the face. His fashion of dress showed, of course, 
the knees and upper part of the leg, which was described to 
me as resembling that of a Highland bull, hirsute, with red 
hair, and evincing muscular strength similar to that animal. 
To these personal qualifications must be added a masterly 
use of the Highland sword, in which his length of arm gave 
him great advantage, and a perfect and intimate knowledge of 
all the recesses of the wild country in which he harboured, and 
the character of the various individuals, whether friendly or 
hostile, with whom he might come in contact. 


ROB ROY xli 

A 

His mental qualities seem to have been no less adapted to 
the circumstances in which he was placed. Though the de- 
scendant of the bloodthirsty Ciar Mohr, he inherited none of 
his ancestor’s ferocity. On the contrary, Rob Roy avoided 
every appearance of cruelty, and it is not averred that he was 
ever the means of unnecessary bloodshed, or the actor in any 
deed which could lead the way to it. His schemes of plunder 
were contrived and executed with equal boldness and sagacity, 
and were almost universally successful, from the skill with 
which they were laid, and the secrecy and rapidity with 
which they were executed. Like Robin Hood of England, 
he was a kind and gentle robber, and, while he took from the 
rich, was liberal in relieving the poor. This might in part be 
policy; but the universal tradition of the country speaks it 
to have arisen from a better motive. All whom I have con- 
versed with, and I have in my youth seen some who knew 
Rob Roy personally, gave him the character of a benevolent 
and humane man “in his way.” 

His ideas of morality were those of an Arab chief, being 
such as naturally arose out of his wild education. Supposing 
Rob Roy to have argued on the tendency of the life which 
he pursued whether from choice or from necessity, he would 
doubtless have assumed to himself the character of a brave 
man, who, deprived of his natural rights by the partiality 
of laws, endeavoured to assert them by the strong hand of 
natural power; and he is most felicitously described as 
reasoning thus, in the high-toned poetry of my gifted friend 
Wordsworth : 

Say, then, that he was wise as brave, 

As wise in thought as bold in deed ; 

For in the principles of things 
He sought his moral creed. 

Said generous Rob, “What need of Books? 

Burn all the statutes and their shelves t 

They stir us up against our kind, 

And worse, against ourselves. 

“We have a passion, make a law, 

Too false to guide us or control ; 


INTRODUCTION 


xlii 


And for the law itself we fight 
In bitterness of soul. 

“And puzzled, blinded, then we lose 
Distinctions that are plain and few ; 

These find I graven on my heart, 

That tells me what to do. 

“The creatures see of flood and field, 

And those that travel on the wind ; 

With them no strife can last ; they live 
In peace, and peace of mind. 

“For why? Because the good old rule 
Sufficeth them ; the simple plan, 

That they should take who have the power, 
And they should keep who can. 


“A lesson which is quickly learn’d, 

A signal through which all can see ; 
Thus, nothing here provokes the strong 
To wanton cruelty. 


“And freakishness of mind is check’d, 
He tamed who foolishly aspires, 
While to the measure of his might 
Each fashions his desires. 


“All kinds and creatures stand and fall 
By strength of prowess or of wit ; 

’Tis God’s appointment who must sway, 
And who is to submit. 


“Since then the rule of right is plain, 
And longest life is but a day, 

To have my ends, maintain my rights, 
I’ll take the shortest way.” 


ROB ROY 


xliii 


And thus among these rocks he lived, 

Through summer’s heat and winter’s snow : 

The eagle, he was lord above, 

And Rob was lord below . 1 

We are not, however, to suppose the character of this dis- 
tinguished outlaw to be that of an actual hero, acting uni- 
formly and consistently on such moral principles as the 
illustrious bard who, standing by his grave, has vindicated 
his fame. On the contrary, as is common with barbarous 
chiefs, Rob Roy appears to have mixed his professions of 
principle with a large alloy of craft and dissimulation, of 
which his conduct during the Civil War is sufficient proof. 
It is also said, and truly, that, although his courtesy was one 
of his strongest characteristics, yet sometimes he assumed 
an arrogance of manner which was not easily endured by the 
high-spirited men to whom it was addressed, and drew the 
daring outlaw into frequent disputes, from which he did not 
always come off with credit. From this it has been inferred 
that Rob Roy was more of a bully than a hero, or at least that 
he had, according to the common phrase, his fighting days. 

The character of Rob Roy is, of course, a mixed one. His 
sagacity, boldness, and prudence, qualities so highly neces- 
sary to success in war, became in some degree vices from the 
manner in which they were employed. The circumstances 
of his education, however, must be admitted as some ex- 
tenuation of his habitual transgressions against the law ; and 
for his political tergiversations, he might in that distracted 
period plead the example of men far more powerful, and less 
excusable in becoming the sport of circumstances, than the 
poor and desperate outlaw. On the other hand, he was in 
the constant exercise of virtues, the more meritorious as 
they seem inconsistent with his general character. 

1 The poem was written in 1803, immediately after The High- 
land Girl and The Solitary Reaper. “We mentioned Rob Roy,” 
said the poet’s sister Dorothy, describing a visit to the farm- 
house of Glengyle, “and the eyes of all glistened; even the lady 
of the house, who was very diffident, and no great talker, ex- 
claimed, ‘He was a good man, Rob Roy!”’ Scott quotes about 
half the poem. 





BIBLIOGRAPHY 


Biography 

Lockhart, J. G., Life of Scott. 

Familiar Letters of Sir Walter Scott (ed. Douglas). 

Journal of Sir Walter Scott. 

Hudson, W. H., Sir Walter Scott. 

Hutton, R. H., Scott, in English Men of Letters series. 

Lang, Andrew, Life of Scott. 

Yonge, C. D., Scott, in Great Writers series (includes good 
bibliography) . 

Criticism 

Bagehot, Walter, Literary Studies. 

Carlyle, Thomas, Critical and Miscellaneous Essays. 

Dawson, W. J., Makers of English Fiction. 

Howells, W. D., Criticism and Fiction. 

Mabie, H. W., Backgrounds of Literature. 

Moulton, R. G., Library of Literary Criticism. 

Perry, T. S., Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 46. 

Ruskin, John, Fiction Fair and Foul, in Nineteenth Century, 
June, 1880. Modern Painters, Books III and IV. 
Stephen, Leslie, Hours in a Library. 

Stevenson, R. L., Gossip and Romance, in Memories and Por- 
traits. 

Swinburne, A. C., Studies in Prose and Poetry. 

Wedgwood, Julia, Littell’s Living Age, Vol. 139; same article 
in Contemporary Review, October, 1878. 

The Novel 

Burton, Richard, Masters of the English Novel. Forces in 
Fiction. 

Cody, Sherwin, How to Write Fiction. 

xlv 


xlvi BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Cross, W. L., The Development of the English Novel. Novel in 
International Encyclopaedia. 

Horne, C. F., The Technique of the Novel. 

Matthews, Brander, The Historical Novel , and Other Essays. 
Perry, Bliss, The Study of Prose Fiction. 

Raleigh, Sir Walter, The English Novel. 

Saintsbury, George, The English Novel. 

Stoddard, F. H., The Evolution of the English Novel. 


Miscellaneous 

Blackie, J. S., The Language and Literature of the Scottish 
Highlands. 

Campbell, J. F., Popular Tales of the Western Highlands. 
Canning, A. S. G., History in Scott’s Novels. 

Crockett, W. S., The Scott Originals. The Scott Country. 
Henderson, T. F., Scotland of To-day. 

Hunnewell, J. F., Lands of Scott. 

Irving, Washington, Abbotsford, in The Sketch-Book. 

Jenks, Tudor, In the Days of Scott. 

MacNeill, The Literature of the Highlands. 

Olcott, C. S., The Country of Sir Walter Scott. 

Scott, Sir Walter, Waverley. A Legend of Montrose. Red- 
gauntlet. Tales of a Grandfather . 

Skene, W. F., The Highlanders of Scotland. 

Stevenson, R. L., Kidnapped. 

Watt and Carter, Picturesque Scotland. 

Thomson, C. W., Scotland’s Work and Worth. 

The Reader’s Guide. 


Poetry 

Blackie, J. S., Songs of the Highlands and Islands. 
Bryant, W. C., Song of Marion’s Men. 

Burns, Robert, Tam O’Shanter. 

Byron, Lord, English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. 
Child, F. J., English and Scottish Ballads. 
Gummere, Old English Ballads. 

Hogg, James, The Queen’s Wake. 

Lowell, J. R., A Fable for Critics. 

Percy, Bishop, Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


xlvii 


Scott, Sir Walter, Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. The Lay 
of the Last Minstrel. Marmion. The Lady of the Lake. 
The Lord of the Isles. Early Poems in Complete Works. 
Sharp, William, Jacobite Songs and Ballads. 

Whittier, J. G., The Pipes at Lucknow. 

Wordsworth, William, Rob Roy’s Grave. Yarrow Revisited. 

Illustrative Material 

Thompson Publishing Company, Syracuse, N. Y. 

Perry Pictures, Malden, Mass. 

University Prints, Newton, Mass. 

James Bryce & Son, Glasgow, Scotland. 



ROB ROY 


CHAPTER I 

How have I sinn’d, that this affliction 

Should light so heavy on me? I have no more sons, 

And this no more mine own. — My grand curse 

Hang o’er his head that thus transform’d thee ! — Travel? 

I’ll send my horse to travel next. 

Monsieur Thomas . 0 

You have requested me, my dear friend, to bestow some 
of that leisure, with which Providence has blessed the decline ^ 
of my life, in registering the hazards and difficulties which 
attended its commencement. The recollection of those 
adventures, as you are pleased to term them, has indeed s 
left upon my mind a checkered and varied feeling of pleas- 
ure and of pain, mingled, I trust, with no slight gratitude 
and veneration to the Disposer of human events, who guided 
my early course through much risk and labor, that the 
ease with which he has blessed my prolonged life might io 
seem softer from remembrance and contrast. Neither 
is it possible for me to doubt, what you have often affirmed, 
that the incidents which befell me among a people singu- 
larly primitive in their government and manners, have some- 
thing interesting and attractive for those who love to hear 15 
an old man’s stories of a past age. 

You must remember my father well; for, as your own 
was a member of the mercantile house, you knew him from 
infancy. Yet you hardly saw him in his best days, before 

1 


B 


2 


ROB ROY 


age and infirmity had quenched his ardent spirit of enter- 
prise and speculation. 

Early in the 18th century, when I (Heaven help me) 
was a youth of some twenty years old, I was summoned 
5 suddenly from Bourdeaux to attend my father on business 
of importance. I shall never forget our first interview. 
You recollect the brief, abrupt, and somewhat stern mode 
in which he was wont to communicate his pleasure to those 
around him. Methinks I see him even now in my mind’s 
io eye ; — the firm and upright figure, — the step, quick and 
determined, — the eye, which shot so keen and so pene- 
trating a glance, — the features, on which care had already 
planted wrinkles, — and hear his language, in which he 
never wasted word in vain, expressed in a voice which had 
is sometimes an occasional harshness, far from the intention 
of the speaker. 

When I dismounted from my post-horse, I hastened to 
my father’s apartment. He was traversing it with an air 
of composed and steady deliberation, which even my arrival, 
20 although an only son unseen for four years, was unable 
to discompose. I threw myself into his arms. He was a 
kind, though not a fond father, and the tear twinkled in 
his dark eye, but it was only for a moment. 

“Dubourg writes to me that he is satisfied with you,” 
25 said my father ; “ but I have less reason to be so. ” 
He proceeded, with the letter in his hand. “This, Frank, 
is yours of the 21st ultimo, in which you advise me (reading 
from a letter of mine) that in the most important business 
of forming a plan, and adopting a profession for life, you 
30 trust my paternal goodness will hold you entitled to at 
least a negative voice; that you have insuperable — ay, 
insuperable is the word — I wish, by the way, you would write 
a more distinct current hand — draw a score through the 


ROB ROY 


3 


tops of your t’s, and open the loops of your l’s — insuperable 
objections to the arrangements which I have proposed to 
you. There is much more to the same effect, occupying 
four good pages of paper, which a little attention to perspi- 
cuity and distinctness of expression might have comprised 5 
within as many lines. For, after all, Frank, it amounts 
but to this, that you will not do as I would have you.” 

“That I cannot, sir, in the present instance, not that I 
will not.” 

“Words avail very little with me, young man,” said my 10 
father, whose inflexibility always possessed the air of the 
most perfect calmness of self-possession. “Can not may 
be a more civil phrase than will not, but the expressions are 
synonymous where there is no moral impossibility. But 
I am not a friend to doing business hastily ; we will talk is 
this matter over after dinner. — Owen ! ” 

Owen appeared, not with the silver locks which you were 
used to venerate, for he was then little more than fifty ; 
but he had the same, or an exactly similar uniform suit 
of light-brown clothes, — the same pearl-grey silk stock- 20 
ings, — the same stock, with its silver buckle, — the same 
plaited cambric ruffles, drawn down over his knuckles in the 
parlor, but in the counting-house carefully folded back 
under the sleeves, that they might remain unstained by the 
ink which he daily consumed ; — in a word, the same grave, 25 
formal, yet benevolent cast of features, which continued 
to his death to distinguish the head clerk of the great house 
of Osbaldistone and Tresham. 

“Owen,” said my father, as the kind old man shook me 
affectionately by the hand, “you must dine with us to-day, 30 
and hear the news Frank has brought us from our friends in 
Bourdeaux.” 

I shall long remember that dinner-party. Deeply affected 


4 


ROB ROY 


by feelings of anxiety, not unmingled with displeasure, I 
was unable to take that active share in the conversation 
which my father seemed to expect from me ; and I too fre- 
quently gave unsatisfactory anwers to the questions with 
S which he assailed me. Owen, hovering betwixt his respect 
for his patron, and his love for the youth he had dandled 
on his knee in childhood, like the timorous, yet anxious 
ally of an invaded nation, endeavored at every blunder I 
made to explain my no-meaning, and to cover my retreat; 
io manoeuvres which added to my father’s pettish displeasure, 
and brought a share of it upon my kind advocate, instead 
of protecting me. 






CHAPTER II 

I begin shrewdly to suspect the young man of a terrible 
taint — Poetry ; with which idle disease if he be in- 
fected, there’s no hope of him in a state course. Actum 
est of him for a commonwealth’s man, if he go to’t in 
rhythme once. 

Ben Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair . 0 

“Frank,” said my father, “you have been throwing away 
your time like a boy, and in future you must learn to live 
like a man. I shall put you under Owen’s care for a few 
months, to recover the lost ground.” 

I was about to reply, but Owen looked at me with such a 5 
supplicatory and warning gesture, that I was involuntarily 
silent. 

“We will then,” continued my father, “resume the sub- 
ject of mine of the 1st ultimo, to which you sent me an answer 
which was unadvised and unsatisfactory. So now, fill your 10 
glass, and push the bottle to Owen.” 

Want of courage — of audacity if you will — was never 
my failing. I answered firmly, “I was sorry that my letter 
was unsatisfactory, unadvised it was not; for I had given 
the proposal his goodness had made me, my instant and 15 
anxious attention, and it was with no small pain that I 
found myself obliged to decline it.” 

My father bent his keen eye for a moment on me, and 
instantly withdrew it. As he made no answer, I thought 
myself obliged to proceed, though with some hesitation, 20 
and he only interrupted me by monosyllables. — “It is 

5 


6 


ROB ROY 


impossible, sir, for me to have higher respect for any character 
than I have for the commercial, even were it not yours.” 

“Indeed!” 

“It connects natidn with nation, relieves the wants, and 
5 contributes to the wealth of all ; and is to the general com- 
monwealth of the civilized world what the daily intercourse 
of ordinary life is to private society, or rather, what air and 
food are to our bodies.” 

“Well, sir?” 

io “And yet, sir, I find myself compelled to persist in declin- 
ing to adopt a character which I am so ill qualified to sup- 
port.” 

“I will take care that you acquire the qualifications neces- 
sary. You are no longer the guest and pupil of Dubourg.” 

15 “But, my dear sir, it is no defect of teaching which I 
plead, but my own inability to profit by instruction.” 

“Nonsense. — Have you kept your journal in the terms 
I desired?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

20 “Be pleased to bring it here.” 

The journal was on the whole so methodical that I began 
to fear the consequence would be my father’s more obstinate 
perseverance in his resolution that I must become a mer- 
chant; and as I was determined on the contrary, I began 

25 to wish I had not, to use my friend Mr. Owen’s phrase, been 
so methodical. But I had no reason for apprehension on that 
score ; for a blotted piece of paper dropped out of the book, 
and, being taken up by my father, he interrupted a hint 
from Owen, on the propriety of securing loose memoranda 

30 with a little paste, by exclaiming, “To the memory of Edward 
the Black Prince 0 — What’s all this ? — verses ! — By 
Heaven, Frank, you are a greater blockhead than I supposed 
you!” 


ROB ROY 


7 


My father, you must recollect, as a man of business, looked 
upon the labors of poets with contempt; and as a religious 
man, and of the dissenting persuasion, he considered all 
such pursuits as equally trivial and profane. Before you 
condemn him, you must recall to remembrance how too many 5 
of the poets 0 in the end of the seventeenth century had led 
their lives and employed their talents. My father read the 
lines sometimes with an affectation of not being able to under- 
stand the sense — sometimes in a mouthing tone of mock 
heroic — always with an emphasis of the most bitter irony, 10 
most irritating to the nerves of an author. 

“O for the voice of that wild horn, 

On Fontarabian 0 echoes borne, 

The dying hero’s call, 

That told imperial Charlemagne, 15 

How Paynim sons of swarthy Spain 

Had wrought his champion’s fall. 

“ Fontarabian echoes !” continued my father, interrupting 
himself; “the Fontarabian Fair would have been more to 
the purpose — Paynim ! — What’s Paynim ? — Could you 20 
not say Pagan as well, and write English at least, if you 
must needs write nonsense ? — 

“Sad over earth and ocean sounding, 

And England’s distant cliffs astounding. 

Such are the notes should say 25 

How Britain’s hope, and France’s fear, 

Victor of Cressy and Poitier, 

In Bordeaux dying lay. 

“Poitiers, by the way, is always spelt with an s, and I 
know no reason why orthography should give place to 30 
rhyme. — 


8 


ROB ROY 


“‘Raise my faint head, my squires,’ he said, 

‘ And let the casement be display’d, 

That I may see once more 
The splendor of the setting sun 
5 Gleam on thy mirrored wave, Garonne, 0 

And Blay’s 0 empurpled shore.’ 

“ Garonne and sun is a bad rhyme. Why, Frank, you do 
not even understand the beggarly trade you have chosen. 

‘“Like me, he sinks to Glory’s sleep, 
io His fall the dews of evening steep, 

As if in sorrow shed, 

So soft shall fall the trickling tear, 

When England’s maids and matrons hear 
Of their Black Edward dead. 

IS “‘And though my sun of glory set, 

Nor France, nor England, shall forget 
The terror of my name ; 

And oft shall Britain’s heroes rise, 

New planets in these southern skies, 

2Q Through clouds of blood and flame.’ 

“A cloud of flame is something new — Good-morrow, 
my masters all, and a merry Christmas to you ! — Why, 
the bellman 0 writes better lines.” He then tossed the paper 
from him with an air of superlative contempt, and concluded 
25 — “Upon my credit, Frank, you are a greater blockhead than 
I took you for.” 

What could I say, my dear Tresham? There I stood, 
swelling with indignant mortification, while my father re- 
garded me with a< calm but stern look of scorn and pity ; and 
30 poor Owen, with uplifted hands and eyes, looked as strik- 
ing a picture of horror as if he had just read his patron’s 
name in the Gazette. At length I took courage to speak, 
endeavoring that my tone of voice should betray my feel- 
ings as little as possible. 


ROB ROY 


9 


“I am quite aware, sir, how ill qualified I am to play the 
conspicuous part in society you have destined for me; and, 
luckily, I am not ambitious of the wealth I might acquire. 
Mr. Owen would be a much more effective assistant.” I said 
this in some malice, for I considered Owen as having de- 5 
serted my cause a little too soon. 

“Owen!” said my father — “The boy is mad — actually 
insane. And, pray, sir, if I may presume to inquire, having 
coolly turned me over to Mr. Owen (although I may expect 
more attention from any one than from my son), what may 10 
your own sage projects be?” 

“I should wish, sir,” I replied, summoning up my courage, 
“to travel for two or three years, should that consist with 
your pleasure; otherwise, although late, I would willingly 
spend the same time at Oxford or Cambridge.” 15 

“In the name of common sense! was the like ever heard? 

— to put yourself to school among pedants and Jacobites, 0 
when you might be pushing your fortune in the world ! Why 
not go to Westminster or Eton at once, man, and take to 
Lily’s 0 Grammar and Accidence, and to the birch, too, if 20 
you like it ? ” 

“Then, sir, if you think my plan of improvement too late, 

I would willingly return to the Continent.” 

“You have already spent too much time there to little 
purpose, Mr. Francis.” 25 

“Then I would choose the army, sir, in preference to any 
other active fine of life.” 

“Choose the d — 1 !” answered my father, hastily, and 
then checking himself — “I profess you make me as great 
a fool as you are yourself. Is he not enough to drive one 30 
mad, Owen?” — Poor Owen shook his head, and looked 
down. “Hark ye, Frank,” continued my father, “I will 
cut all this matter very short. I was at your age when 


10 


ROB ROY 


my father turned me out of doors, and settled my legal 
inheritance on my younger brother. I left Osbaldistone 
Hall° on the back of a broken-down hunter, with ten guineas 
in my purse. I have never crossed the threshold again, 
5 and I never will. I know not, and I care not, if my fox- 
hunting brother is alive, or has broken his neck; but he 
has children, Frank, and one of them shall be my son if you 
cross me farther in this matter.” 

“You will do your pleasure,” I answered — rather, I 
iofear, with more sullen indifference than respect, “with what 
is your own.” 

“Yes, Frank, what I have is my own, if labor in getting, 
and care in augmenting, can make a right of property; and 
no drone shall feed on my honeycomb. Think on it well : 
1 5 what I have said is not without reflection, and what I resolve 
upon I will execute.” 

“Honored sir ! — dear sir !” exclaimed Owen, tears rushing 
into his eyes, “you are not wont to be in such a hurry in 
transacting business of importance. Let Mr. Francis run 
20 up the balance before you shut the account; he loves you, 
I am sure ; and when he puts down his filial obedience to the 
per contra, I am sure his objections will disappear.” 

“You are right,” he said, “Owen, and I was wrong; we 
will take more time to think over this matter. — Young man, 
25 you will prepare to give me an answer on this important 
subject this day month.” 

I bowed in silence, sufficiently glad of a reprieve, and 
trusting it might indicate some relaxation in my father’s 
determination. 

30 The time of probation passed slowly, unmarked by any 
accident whatever. I went and came, and disposed of my 
time as I pleased, without question or criticism on the part 
of my father. I persuaded myself, that all I had to appre- 


ROB ROY 


11 


hend was some temporary alienation of affection — perhaps 
a rustication of a few weeks, which I thought would rather 
please me than otherwise, since it would give me an oppor- 
tunity of setting about my unfinished version of Orlando 
Furioso, 0 a poem which I longed to render into English verse. 5 
I suffered this belief to get such absolute possession of my 
mind, that I had resumed my blotted papers, and was busy 
in meditation on the oft-recurring rhymes of the Spenserian 
stanza, 0 when one day I heard a low and cautious tap at the 
door of my apartment. “Come in,” I said, and Mr. Owen 10 
entered. So regular were the motions and habits of this 
worthy man, that in all probability this was the first time 
he had ever been in the second story of his patron’s house, 
however conversant with the first; and I am still at a loss 
to know in what manner he discovered my apartment. is 

“Mr. Francis,” he said, interrupting my expression of 
surprise and pleasure at seeing him, “I do not know if I am 
doing well in what I am about to say - — it is not right to 
speak of what passes in the compting-house out of doors — 
one should not tell, as they say, to the post in the warehouse, 20 
how many lines there are in the ledger. But young Twineall 0 
has been absent from the house for a fortnight and more, 
until two days since.” 

“Very well, my dear sir, and how does that concern us?” 

“Stay, Mr. Francis; — your father gave him a private 25 
commission ; and I am sure he did not go down to Falmouth 
about the pilchard affair; and the Exeter business with 
Blackwell and Company has been settled; and the mining 
people in Cornwall, Trevanion and Treguilliam, have paid 
all they are likely to pay ; and any other matter of business 30 
must have been put through my books ; — in short, it’s my 
faithful belief that Twineall has been down in the north.” 

“Do you really suppose so?” said I, somewhat startled. 


12 


ROB ROY 


“He has spoken about nothing, sir, since he returned, but 
his new boots, and his Ripon spurs, 0 and a cock-fight at 
York — it’s as true as the multiplication table. Do, Heaven 
bless you, my dear child, make up your mind to please your 
5 father, and to be a man and a merchant at once.” 

I felt at that instant a strong inclination to submit, and 
to make Owen happy by requesting him to tell my father that 
I resigned myself to his disposal. But pride — pride, the 
source of so much that is good and so much that is evil in 
ioour course of life, prevented me. My acquiescence stuck 
in my throat; and while I was coughing to get it up, my 
father’s voice summoned Owen. He hastily left the room, 
and the opportunity was lost. 

My father was methodical in everything. At the very 
i s same time of the day, in the same apartment, and with the 
same tone and manner which he had employed an exact 
month before, he recapitulated the proposal he had made 
for taking me into partnership, and assigning me a depart- 
ment in the counting-house, and requested to have my final 
20 decision. I thought at the time there was something unkind 
in this; and I still think that my father’s conduct was in- 
judicious. A more conciliatory treatment would, in all 
probability, have gained his purpose. As it was, I stood 
fast, and, as respectfully as I could, declined the proposal 
25 he made to me. Perhaps — for who can judge of their own 
heart ? — I felt it unmanly to yield on the first summons, 
and expected farther solicitation, as at least a pretext for 
changing my mind. If so, I was disappointed ; for my father 
turned coolly to Owen, and only said, “You see it is as I told 
30 you. — Well, Frank” (addressing me), “you are nearly of 
age, and as well qualified to judge of what will constitute your 
own happiness as you ever are like to be; therefore, I say 
no more. But as I am not bound to give in to your plans, 


ROB ROY 


13 


any more than you are compelled to submit to mine, may I 
ask to know if you have formed any which depend on my 
assistance ? ” 

I answered, not a little abashed, "‘That being bred to no 
profession, and having no funds of my own, it was obviously 5 
impossible for me to subsist without some allowance from 
my father; that my wishes were very' moderate; and that 
I hoped my aversion for the profession to which he had de- 
signed me, would not occasion his altogether withdrawing 
his paternal support and protection.” 10 

“That is to say, you wish to lean on my arm, and yet to 
walk your own way ? That can hardly be, Frank ; — how- 
ever, I suppose you mean to obey my directions, so far as 
they do not cross your own humor?” 

I was about to speak — “Silence, if you please,” he con- 15 
tinued. “Supposing this to be the case, you will instantly 
set out for the north of England, to pay your uncle a visit, 
and see the state of his family. I have chosen from among 
his sons (he has six, I believe) one who, I understand, is most 
worthy to fill the place I intended for you in the counting- 20 
house. But some farther arrangements may be necessary, 
and for these your presence may be requisite. You shall 
have farther instructions at Osbaldistone Hall, where you 
will please to remain until you hear from me. Everything 
will be ready for your departure to-morrow morning.” 25 

With these words my father left the apartment. 

“What does all this mean, Mr. Owen?” said I to my 
sympathetic friend, whose countenance wore a cast of the 
deepest dejection. 

“You have ruined yourself, Mr. Frank, that’s all. When 30 
your father talks in that quiet determined manner, there will 
be no more change in him than in a fitted account.” 

And so it proved; for the next morning, at five o’clock, 


14 


ROB ROY 


I found myself on the road to York , 0 mounted on a reasonably 
good horse, and with fifty guineas 0 in my pocket ; travelling, 
as it would seem, for the purpose of assisting in the adoption 
of a successor to myself in my father’s house and favor, 
5 and, for aught I knew, eventually in his fortune also. 






CHAPTER III 


The slack sail shifts from side to side, 

The boat, untrimm’d, admits the tide, 

Borne down, adrift, at random tost, 

The oar breaks short, the rudder’s lost. 

Gay’s Fables . 0 

As the hum of London died away on my ear, the distant 
peal of her steeples more than once sounded to my ears the 
admonitory “Turn again,” erst heard by her future Lord 
Mayor; and when I looked back from Highgate 0 on her 
dusky magnificence, I felt as if I were leaving behind me 5 
comfort, opulence, the charms of society, and all the pleasures 
of cultivated life. 

The characters whom I met with were of a uniform and 
uninteresting description. Country parsons, jogging home- 
ward after a visitation; farmers, or graziers, returning from 10 
a distant market; clerks of traders, travelling to collect 
what was their due to their masters, in provincial towns; 
with now and then an officer going down into the country 
upon the recruiting service, were, at this period, the persons 
by whom the turnpikes and tapsters were kept in exercise. 15 
Our speech, therefore, was of tithes and creeds, of beeves 
and grain, of commodities wet and dry, and the solvency of 
the retail dealers, occasionally varied by the description of 
a siege, or battle, in Flanders, which, perhaps, the narrator 
only gave me at second hand. Robbers, a fertile and alarm- 
ing theme, filled up every vacancy; and the names of the 

15 


16 


ROB ROY 


Golden Farmer, the Flying Highwayman, Jack Needham, 
and other Beggars’ Opera 0 heroes, were familiar in our mouths 
as household words. At such tales, like children closing 
their circle round the fire when the ghost story draws to its 
5 climax, the riders drew near to each other, looked before 
and behind them, examined the priming of their pistols, and 
vowed to stand by each other in case of danger ; an engage- 
ment which, like other offensive and defensive alliances, 
sometimes glided out of remembrance when there was an 
io appearance of actual peril. 

Of all the fellows whom I ever saw haunted by terrors of 
this nature, one poor man, with whom I travelled a day and 
a half, afforded me most amusement. He had upon his 
pillion a very small, but apparently a very weighty port- 
15 manteau, about the safety of which he seemed particularly 
solicitous; never trusting it out of his own immediate care, 
and uniformly repressing the officious zeal of the waiters 
and ostlers, who offered their services to carry it into the 
house. With the same precaution he labored to conceal, 
20 not only the purpose of his journey, and his ultimate place 
of destination, but even the direction of each day’s route. 
Nothing embarrassed him more than to be asked by any 
one, whether he was travelling upward or downward, or at 
what stage he intended to bait. His place of rest for the 
25 night he scrutinized with the most anxious care, alike avoid- 
ing solitude, and what he considered as bad neighborhood ; 
and at Grantham, 0 I believe, he sat up all night to avoid 
sleeping in the next room to a thickset squinting fellow, in 
a black wig, and a tarnished gold-laced waistcoat. With all 
30 these cares on his mind, my fellow traveller, to judge by 
his thews and sinews, was a man who might have set danger 
at defiance with as much impunity as most men. He was 
strong and well built; and, judging from his gold-laced hat 


ROB ROY 


17 


and cockade, seemed to have served in the army, or, at 
least, to belong to the military profession in one capacity 
or other. His conversation also, though always sufficiently 
vulgar, was that of a man of sense, when the terrible bugbears 
which haunted his imagination for a moment ceased to 5 
occupy his attention. But every accidental association 
recalled them. An open heath, a close plantation, were alike 
subjects of apprehension; and the whistle of a shepherd 
lad was instantly converted into the signal of a depredator. 
Even the sight of a gibbet, if it assured him that one robber 10 
was safely disposed of by justice, never failed to remind him 
how many remained still unhanged. Toward the conclusion 
of his stories, I observed that he usually eyed me with a 
glance of doubt and suspicion, as if the possibility occurred 
to him, that he might, at that very moment, be in company 15 
with a character as dangerous as that which his tale described. 
And ever and anon, when such suggestions pressed them- 
selves on the mind of this ingenious self-tormentor, he drew 
off from me to the opposite side of the high-road, looked 
before, behind, and around him, examined his arms, and 20 
seemed to prepare himself for flight or defence, as circum- 
stances might require. 

The suspicion implied on such occasions seemed to me only 
momentary, and too ludicrous to be offensive. There was, 
in fact, no particular reflection on my dress or address, al- 25 
though I was thus mistaken for a robber. A man in those 
days might have all the external appearance of a gentle- 
man, and yet turn out to be a highwayman. A young man, 
therefore, in my circumstances was not entitled to be highly 
indignant at the mistake which confounded him with this 30 
worshipful class of depredators. 

Neither was I offended. On the contrary, I found amuse- 
ment in alternately exciting, and lulling to sleep, the sus- 
c 


18 


ROB ROY 


picions of my timorous companion, and in purposely so 
acting as still farther to puzzle a brain which nature and 
apprehension had combined to render none of the clearest. 
When my free conversation had lulled him into complete 
5 security, it required only a passing inquiry concerning the 
direction of his journey, or the nature of the business which 
occasioned it, to put his suspicions once more in arms. For 
example, a conversation on the comparative strength and 
activity of our horses, took such a turn as follows : — 
io “O sir,” said my companion, “ for the gallop I grant you; 
but allow me to say, your horse (although he is a very hand- 
some gelding — that must be owned) has too little bone 
to be a good roadster. The trot, sir” (striking his Buceph- 
alus 0 with his spurs), — “the trot is the true pace for a 
is hackney; and, were we near a town, I should like to try that 
daisy-cutter of yours upon a piece of level road (barring 
canter) for a quart of claret at the next inn.” 

“Content, sir,” replied I ; “and here is a stretch of ground 
very favorable.” 

20 “Hem, ahem,” answered my friend with hesitation; “I 
make it a rule of travelling never to blow my horse between 
stages; one never knows what occasion he may have to 
put him to his mettle : and besides, sir, when I said I would 
match you, I meant with even weight ; you ride four stone 0 
25 lighter than I.” 

“Very well; but I am content to carry weight. Pray, 
what may that portmanteau of yours weigh ? ” 

“My p — p — portmanteau?” replied he, hesitating — “O 
very little — a feather — just a few shirts and stockings.” 

30 “I should think it heavier, from its appearance. I’ll 
hold you the quart of claret it makes the odds betwixt our 
weight.” 

“You’re mistaken, sir, I assure you — quite mistaken,” 


ROB ROY 


19 


replied my friend, edging off to the side of the road, as was 
his wont on these alarming occasions. 

“Well, I am willing to venture the wine ; or, I will bet you 
ten pieces to five, that I carry your portmanteau on my 
croupe, 0 and out-trot you into the bargain.” 5 

This proposal raised my friend’s alarm to the uttermost. 
His nose changed from the natural copper hue which it 
had acquired from many a comfortable cup of claret or 
sack, into a palish brassy tint, and his teeth chattered with 
apprehension at the unveiled audacity of my proposal, which 10 
seemed to place the barefaced plunderer before him in full 
atrocity. As he faltered for an answer, I relieved him in 
some degree by a question concerning a steeple, which now 
became visible, and an observation that we were now so 
near the village as to run no risk from interruption on the 15 
road. 




CHAPTER IV 


The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride. 

True is the charge ; nor by themselves denied. 

Are they not, then, in strictest reason clear, 

Who wisely come to mend their fortunes here? 

Churchill . 0 

There was, in the days of which I write, an old-fashioned 
custom on the English road, which I suspect is now obsolete, 
or practised only by the vulgar. Journeys of length being 
made on horseback, and, of course, by brief stages, it was 
5 usual always to make a halt on the Sunday in some town 
where the traveller might attend divine service, and his 
horse have the benefit of the day of rest, the institution of 
which is as humane to our brute laborers as profitable to 
ourselves. It was on such a day, and such an occasion, that 
io my timorous acquaintance and I were about to grace the 
board of the ruddy-faced host of the Black Bear, in the town 
of Darlington , 0 and bishopric of Durham, when our land- 
lord informed us, with a sort of apologetic tone, that there 
was a Scotch gentleman to dine with us. 
is “A gentleman! — what sort of a gentleman?” said my 
companion somewhat hastily — his mind, I suppose, running 
on gentlemen of the pad, as they were then termed. 

“Why, a Scotch sort of a gentleman, as I said before,” 
returned mine host; “they are all gentle, ye mun know, 
20 though they ha’ narra shirt to back ; but this is a decentish 
hallion — a canny North Briton as e’er cross’d Berwick 
Bridge 0 — I trow he’s a dealer in cattle.” 

20 


ROB ROY 


21 


“Let us have his company, by all means,” answered my 
companion; and then, turning to me, he gave vent to the 
tenor of his own reflections. “I respect the Scotch, sir; 
I love and honor the nation for their sense of morality. Men 
talk of their filth and their poverty : but commend me to 
sterling honesty, though clad in rags, as the poet saith. 
I have been credibly assured, sir, by men on whom I can 
depend, that there was never known such a thing in Scotland 
as a highway robbery.” 

“That’s because they have nothing to lose,” said mine 
host, with the chuckle of a self -applauding wit. 

“No, no, landlord,” answered a strong deep voice behind 
him, “it’s e’en because your English gaugers 0 and super- 
visors, that you have sent down benorth the Tweed, have 
taen up the trade of thievery over the heads of the native 
professors.” 

“Well said, Mr. Campbell,” answered the landlord; “I 
did not think thoud’st been sae near us, mon. But thou 
kens I’m an outspoken Yorkshire tyke. And how go markets 
in the south ? ” 

“Even in the ordinar,” replied IVlr. Campbell; “wise folks 
buy and sell, and fools are bought and sold.” 

“But wise men and fools both eat their dinner,” answered 
our jolly entertainer; “and here a comes — as prime a 
buttock of beef as e’er hungry mon stuck fork in.” 

So saying, he eagerly whetted his knife, assumed his seat 
of empire at the head of the board, and loaded the plates of 
his sundry guests with his good cheer. 

This was the first time I had heard the Scottish accent, 
or, indeed, that I had familiarly met with an individual of 
the ancient nation by whom it was spoken. Yet, from an 
early period, they had occupied and interested my imagina- 
tion. My father, as is well known to you, was of an ancient 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 

30 


22 


ROB ROY 


family in Northumberland, 0 from whose seat I was, while 
eating the aforesaid dinner, not very many miles distant. 
The quarrel betwixt him and his relatives was such, that 
he scarcely ever mentioned the race from which he sprung, 
5 and held as the most contemptible species of vanity, the 
weakness which is commonly termed family pride. His 
ambition was only to be distinguished as William Osbaldi- 
stone, the first, at least one of the first, merchants on Change 0 ; 
and to have proved him the lineal representative of William 
iothe Conqueror 0 would have far less flattered his vanity than 
the hum and bustle which his approach was wont to produce 
among the bulls, bears, and brokers of Stock-alley. His nurse, 
an old Northumbrian woman, attached to him from his 
infancy, was the only person connected with his native prov- 
isince for whom he retained any regard; and when fortune 
dawned upon him, one of the first uses which he made of 
her favors, was to give Mabel Rickets a place of residence 
within his household. After the death of my mother, the 
care of nursing me during my childish illnesses, and of render- 
20 ing all those tender attentions which infancy exacts from 
female affection, devolved on old Mabel. Interdicted by 
her master from speaking to him on the subject of the heaths, 
glades, and dales of her beloved Northumberland, she poured 
herself forth to my infant ear in descriptions of the scenes 
25 of her youth, and long narratives of the events which tradi- 
tion declared to have passed amongst them. To these I 
inclined my ear much more seriously than to graver, but less 
animated instructors. Even yet, methinks I see old Mabel, 
her head slightly agitated by the palsy of age, and shaded 
30 by a close cap, as white as the driven snow, — her face 
wrinkled, but still retaining the healthy tinge which it had 
acquired in rural labor — I think I see her look around on 
the brick walls and narrow street which presented themselves 




ROB ROY 


23 


before our windows, as she concluded with a sigh the favorite 
old ditty, which I then preferred, and — why should I not 
tell the truth ? — which I still prefer to all the opera airs 
ever minted by the capricious brain of an Italian Mus.D.° — 

Oh, the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, 5 

They flourish best at home in the North Countrie ! 

Now, in the legends of Mabel, the Scottish nation was ever 
freshly remembered, with all the embittered declamation 
of which the narrator was capable. The inhabitants of 
the opposite frontier served in her narratives to fill up the io 
parts which ogres and giants with seven-leagued boots 
occupy in the ordinary nursery tales. And how could it 
be otherwise? Was it not the Black Douglas 0 who slew 
with his own hand the heir of the Osbaldistone family the day 
after he took possession of his estate, surprising him and his 15 
vassals while solemnizing a feast suited to the occasion? 
Was it not Wat the Devil, 0 who drove all the year-old hogs 
off the braes of Lanthorn-side, in the very recent days of 
my grandfather’s father? And had we not many a trophy, 
but, according to old Mabel’s version of history, far more 20 
honorably gained, to mark our revenge of these wrongs? 
Did not Sir Henry Osbaldistone, fifth baron of the name, 
carry off the fair maid of Fairnington, as Achilles 0 did his 
Chryseis and Briseis of old, and detain her in his fortress 
against all the power of her friends, supported by the most 25 
mighty Scottish chiefs of warlike fame? And had pot our 
swords shone foremost at most of those fields in which Eng- 
land was victorious over her rival? All our family renown 
was acquired — all our family misfortunes were occasioned 
— by the northern wars. 30 

It was, then, with an impression of dislike, that I con- 
templated the first Scotchman I chanced to meet in society. 


24 


ROB ROY 


There was much about him that coincided with my previous 
conceptions. He had the hard features and athletic form 
said to be peculiar to his country, together with the national 
intonation and slow pedantic mode of expression, arising 
S from a desire to avoid peculiarities of idiom or dialect. I 
could also observe the caution and shrewdness of his country 
in many of the observations which he made, and the answers 
which he returned. But I was not prepared for the air of 
easy self-possession and superiority with which he seemed to 

1 o predominate over the company into which he was thrown, 

as it were by accident. His dress was as coarse as it could 
be, being still decent ; and, at a time when great expense was 
lavished upon the wardrobe, even of the lowest who pretended 
to the character of gentleman, this indicated mediocrity of 
1 5 circumstances, if not poverty. His conversation intimated 
that he was engaged in the cattle trade, no very dignified 
professional pursuit. And yet, under these disadvantages, 
he seemed, as a matter of course, to treat the rest of the 
company with the cool and condescending politeness which 
20 implies a real, or imagined, superiority over those toward 
whom it is used. When he gave his opinion on any point, 
it was with that easy tone of confidence used by those su- 
perior to their society in rank or information, as if what he 
said could not be doubted, and was not to be questioned. 

2 5 Mine host and his Sunday guests, after an effort or two to 

support their consequence by noise and bold averment, sunk 
gradually under the authority of Mr. Campbell, who thus 
fairly possessed himself of the lead in the conversation. I 
found him much better acquainted than I was myself with 
30 the present state of France, the character of the Duke of 
Orleans, 0 who had just succeeded to the regency of that 
kingdom, and that of the statesmen by whom he was sur- 
rounded; and his shrewd, caustic, and somewhat satirical 


ROB ROY 25 

remarks, were those of a man who had been a close observer 
of the affairs of that country. 

On the subject of politics Campbell observed a silence 
and moderation which might arise from caution. The 
divisions of Whig and Tory then shook England to her very 5 
centre, and a powerful party, engaged in the Jacobite inter- 
est, menaced the dynasty of Hanover, which had been just 
established on the throne. Every alehouse resounded with 
the brawls of contending politicians, and as mine host’s 
politics were of that liberal description which quarrelled with 10 
no good customer, each party appealed to Mr. Campbell, 
anxious, it seemed, to elicit his approbation. 

“You are a Scotchman, sir; a gentleman of your country 
must stand up for hereditary right,” cried one party. 

“You are a Presbyterian,” assumed the other class of 15 
disputants; “you cannot be a friend to arbitrary power.” 

“Gentlemen,” said our Scotch oracle, after having gained, 
with some difficulty, a moment’s pause, “I havena much 
dubitation that King George weel deserves the predilection 
of his friends ; and if he can haud the grip he has gotten, why, 20 
doubtless, he may make the gauger, here, a commissioner 
of the revenue, and confer on our friend, Mr. Quitam, 0 the 
preferment of solicitor-general ; and he may also grant some 
good deed or reward to this honest gentleman who is sitting 
upon his portmanteau, which he prefers to a chair : And, 2 5 
questionless, King James is also a grateful person, and when 
he gets his hand in play, he may, if he be so minded, make 
this reverend gentleman archprelate of Canterbury, and 
Dr. Mixit chief physician to his household, and commit 
his royal beard to the care of my friend Latherum. But 30 
as I doubt mickle whether any of the competing sovereigns 
would give Rob Campbell a tass of aquavitae, if he lacked it, 

I give my vote and interest to Jonathan Brown, our landlord. 


26 


ROB ROY 


to be the King and Prince of Skinkers, conditionally that 
he fetches us another bottle as good as the last.” 

This sally was received with general applause, in which 
the landlord cordially joined ; and when he had given orders 
5 for fulfilling the condition on which his preferment was to 
depend, he failed not to acquaint them, “that, for as peace- 
able a gentleman as Mr. Campbell was, he was, moreover, 
as bold as a lion — seven highwaymen had he defeated 
with his single arm, that beset him as he came from Whit- 
io son-Tryste.”° 

“Thou art deceived, friend Jonathan,” said Campbell, 
interrupting him; “they were but barely two, and two cow- 
ardly loons as man could wish to meet withal.” 

“And did you, sir, really,” said my fellow-traveller, edging 
1 5 his chair (I should have said his portmanteau) nearer to Mr. 
Campbell, “really and actually beat two highwaymen your- 
self alone?” 

“In troth did I, sir,” replied Campbell; “and I think it 
nae great thing to make a sang about.” 

•20 “Upon my word, sir,” replied my acquaintance, “I should 
be happy to have the pleasure of your company on my journey 
— I go northward, sir.” 

This piece of gratuitous information concerning the route 
he proposed to himself, the first I had heard my companion 
2 5 bestow upon any one, failed to excite the corresponding 
confidence of the Scotchman. 

“We can scarce travel together,” he replied, dryly. “You, 
sir, doubtless, are well mounted, and I for the present travel 
on foot, or on a Highland shelty, that does not help me much 
30 faster forward.” 

So saying, he called for a reckoning for the wine, and throw- 
ing down the price of the additional bottle which he had him- 
self introduced, rose as if to take leave of us. My companion 


ROB ROY 


27 


made up to him, and taking him by the button, drew him 
aside into one of the windows. I could not help overhearing 
him pressing something — I supposed his company — upon 
the journey, which Mr. Campbell seemed to decline. 

“I will pay your charges, sir,” said the traveller, in 5 
a tone as if he thought the argument should bear down 
all opposition. 

“It is quite impossible,” said Campbell, somewhat con- 
temptuously; “I have business at Rothbury.” 0 

“But I am in no great hurry; I can ride out of the way, 10 
and never miss a day or so for good company.” 

“Upon my faith, sir,” said Campbell, “I cannot render 
you the service you seem to desiderate. I am,” he added, 
drawing himself up haughtily, “travelling on my own private 
affairs, and if ye will act by my advisement, sir, ye will 15 
neither unite yourself with an absolute stranger on the road, 
nor communicate your line of journey to those who are asking 
ye no questions about it.” He then extricated his button, 
not very ceremoniously, from the hold which detained him, 
and coming up to me as the company were dispersing, ob- 20 
served, “Your friend, sir, is too communicative, considering 
the nature of his trust.” 

“That gentleman,” I replied, looking toward the traveller, 
“is no friend of mine, but an acquaintance whom I picked 
up on the road. I know neither his name nor business, and 25 
you seem to be deeper in his confidence than I am.” 

“I only meant,” he replied hastily, “that he seems a 
thought rash in conferring the honor of his company on 
those who desire it not.” 

“The gentleman,” replied I, “knows his own affairs best, 30 
and I should be sorry to constitute myself a judge of them in 
any respect.” 

Mr. Campbell made no farther observation, but merely 


28 


ROB ROY 


wished me a good journey, and the party dispersed for the 
evening. 

Next day I parted company with my timid companion, 
as I left the great northern road to turn more westerly in 
S the direction of Osbaldistone Manor, my uncle’s seat. I 
cannot tell whether he felt relieved or embarrassed by my 
departure, considering the dubious light in which he seemed 
to regard me. For my own part, his tremors ceased to amuse 
me, and, to say the truth, I was heartily glad to. get rid of 
iohim. 


CHAPTER V 


How melts my beating heart as I behold 
Each lovely nymph, our island’s boast and pride, 

Push on the generous steed, that sweeps along 
O’er rough, o’er smooth, nor heeds the steepy hill, 

Nor falters in the extended vale below. 

The Chase . 0 

I approached my native north, for such I esteemed it, 
with that enthusiasm which romantic and wild scenery 
inspires in the lovers of nature. The Cheviots 0 rose before 
me in frowning majesty ; not, indeed, with the sublime variety 
of rock and cliff which characterizes mountains of the primary 5 
class, but huge, round-headed, and clothed with a dark robe of 
russet, gaining, by their extent and desolate appearance, 
an influence upon the imagination, as a desert district possess- 
ing a character of its own. 

From the summit of an eminence I had already had a 10 
distant view of Osbaldistone Hall,° a large and antiquated 
edifice, peeping out from a Druidical 0 grove of huge oaks; 
and I was directing my course toward it, as straightly and 
as speedily as the windings of a very indifferent road would 
permit, when my horse, tired as he was, pricked up his ears 15 
at the enlivening notes of a pack of hounds in full cry, cheered 
by the occasional bursts of a French horn, which in those 
days was a constant accompaniment to the chase. I made 
no doubt that the pack was my uncle’s, and drew up my 
horse with the purpose of suffering the hunters to pass with- 20 

29 


30 


ROB ROY 


out notice, aware that a hunting-field was not the proper 
scene to introduce myself to a keen sportsman, and deter- 
mined when they had passed on, to proceed to the mansion- 
house at my own pace, and there to await the return of the 
5 proprietor from his sport. I paused, | therefore, on a rising 
ground, and, not unmoved by the sense of interest which 
that species of silvan sport is so much calculated to inspire 
(although my mind was not at the moment very accessible 
to impressions of this nature), I expected with some eagerness 
iothe appearance of the huntsmen. 

The dogs pursued the trace of Reynard with unerring 
instinct ; and the hunters followed with reckless haste, 
regardless of the broken and difficult nature of the ground. 
They were tall, stout young men, well mounted, and dressed 
x5 in green and red, the uniform of a sporting association, 
formed under the auspices of old Sir Hildebrand Osbhldi- 
stone. — “My cousins!” thought I, as they swept past me. 
The next reflection was, what is my reception likely to be 
among these worthy successors of Nimrod? and how im- 
20 probable is it that I, knowing little or nothing of rural sports, 
shall find myself at ease, or happy, in my uncle’s family. 
A vision that passed me interrupted these reflections. 

It was a young lady, the loveliness of whose very striking 
features was enhanced by the animation of the chase and 
25 the glow of the exercise, mounted on a beautiful horse, jet 
black, unless where he was flecked by spots of the snow-white 
foam which embossed his bridle. She wore, what was then 
somewhat unusual, a coat, vest, and hat, resembling those 
of a man, which fashion has since called a riding habit. The 
30 mode had been introduced while I was in France, and was 
perfectly new to me. Her long black hair streamed on the 
breeze, having in the hurry of the chase escaped from the 
ribbon which bound it. Some very broken ground, through 


ROB ROY 


31 


which she guided her horse with the most admirable address 
and presence of mind, retarded her course, and brought her 
closer to me than any of the other riders had passed. I had, 
therefore, a full view of her uncommonly fine face and per- 
son, to which an inexpressible charm was added by the 5 
wild gaiety of the scene, and the romance of her singular 
dress and unexpected appearance. As she passed me, her 
horse made, in his impetuosity, an irregular movement, just 
while, coming once more upon open ground, she was again 
putting him to his speed. It served as an apology for me 10 
to ride close up to her, as if to her assistance. There was, 
however, no cause for alarm; it was not a stumble, nor a 
false step; and, if it had, the fair Amazon had too much 
self-possession to have been deranged by it. She thanked 
my good intentions, however, by a smile, and I felt encour- 15 
aged to put my horse to the same pace, and to keep in her 
immediate neighborhood. The clamor of “Whoop! dead! 
dead ! ” — and the corresponding flourish of the French 
horn, soon announced to us that there was no more occasion 
for haste, since the chase was at a close. One of the young 20 
men whom we had seen approached us, waving the brush 
of the fox in triumph, as if to upbraid my fair companion. 

“I see,” she replied, — “I see; but make no noise about 
it : if Phoebe,” she said, patting the neck of the beautiful 
animal on which she rode, “had not got among the cliffs, 25 
you would have had little cause for boasting.” 

They met as she spoke, and I observed them both look at 
me, and converse a moment in an under-tone, the young lady 
apparently pressing the sportsman to do something which 
he declined shyly, and with a sort of sheepish sullenness. 30 
She instantly turned her horse’s head toward me, saying, — 
“Well, well, Thornie, if you won’t I must, that’s all. — Sir,” 
she continued, addressing me, “I have been endeavoring to 


32 


ROB ROY 


persuade this cultivated young gentleman to make inquiry 
of you whether, in the course of your travels in these parts, 
you have heard anything of a friend of ours, one Mr. Francis 
Osbaldistone, who has been for some days expected at Osbaldi- 
S stone Hall?” 

I was too happy to acknowledge myself to be the party 
inquired after, and to express my thanks for the obliging 
inquiries of the young lady. 

“In that case, sir,” she rejoined, “as my kinsman’s polite- 
io ness seems to be still slumbering, you will permit me (though 
I suppose it is highly improper) to stand mistress of cere- 
monies, and to present to you young Squire Thorncliff Osbaldi- 
stone, your cousin, and Die Vernon, who has also the honor 
to be your accomplished cousin’s poor kinswoman.” 
is There was a mixture of boldness, satire, and simplicity 
in the manner in which Miss Vernon pronounced these words. 
My knowledge of life was sufficient to enable me to take up 
a corresponding tone as I expressed my gratitude to her for 
her condescension, and my extreme pleasure at having met 
20 with them. To say the truth, the compliment was so ex- 
pressed, that the lady might easily appropriate the greater 
share of it, for Thorncliff seemed an arrant country bumpkin, 
awkward, shy, and somewhat sulky withal. He shook hands 
with me, however, and then intimated his intention of leav- 
25 ing me that he might help the huntsman and his brothers 
to couple up the hounds, — a purpose which he rather com- 
municated by way of information to Miss Vernon than as 
apology to me. 

“There he goes,” said the young lady, following him with 
30 eyes in which disdain was admirably painted — “the prince 
of grooms and cock-fighters, and blackguard horse-coursers. 
But there is not one of them to mend another. — Have you 
read Markham?” 0 said Miss Vernon. 


ROB ROY 


33 


“Read whom, ma’am? — I do not even remember the 
author’s name.” 

“O lud ! on what a strand are you wrecked!” replied the 
young lady. “A poor forlorn and ignorant stranger, unac- 
quainted with the very Alcoran 0 of the savage tribe whom 5 
you are come to reside among — Never to have heard of 
Markham, the most celebrated author on farriery! then I 
fear you are equally a stranger to the more modern names 
of Gibson 0 and Bartlett?” 0 

“I am, indeed, Miss Vernon.” 10 

“And do you not blush to own it?” said Miss Vernon. 
“Why, we must forswear your alliance. Then, I suppose, 
you can neither give a ball, 0 nor a mash,° nor a horn!”° 

“I confess I trust all these matters to an ostler, or to my 
groom.” is 

“Incredible carelessness! — And you cannot shoe a horse, 
or cut his mane and tail ; or worm 0 a dog, or crop his ears, 
or cut his dew-claws; or reclaim a hawk, or give him his 
casting-stones, 0 or direct his diet when he is sealed; or” — 

“To sum up my insignifiance in one word,” replied I, “I 20 
am profoundly ignorant in all these rural accomplishments.” 

“Then, in the name of Heaven, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, 
what can you do ? ” 

“Very little to the purpose, Miss Vernon; something, 
however, I can pretend to — When my groom has* dressed 2 s 
my horse I can ride him, and when my hawk is in the field, 

I can fly him.” 

“Gan you do^ this?” said the young lady, putting her 
horse to a canter. 

There was a sort of rude overgrown fence crossed the 30 
path before us, with a gate composed of pieces of wood 
rough from the forest ; I was about to move forward to open 
it, when Miss Vernon cleared the obstruction at a flying 

D 


34 


ROB ROY 


leap. I was bound in point of honor to follow, and was in 
a moment again at her side. “ There are hopes of you yet,” 
she said. “I was afraid you had been a very degenerate 
Osbaldistone. But what on earth brings you to Cub-Castle ? 

5 — for so the neighbors have christened this hunting-hall 
of ours. You might have stayed away, I suppose, if you 
would ? ” 

I felt I was by this time on a very intimate footing with 
my beautiful apparition, and therefore replied, in a confiden- 
iotial undertone — “Indeed, my dear Miss Vernon, I might 
have considered it as a sacrifice to be a temporary resident 
in Osbaldistone Hall, the inmates being such as you described 
them; but I am convinced there is one exception that will 
make amends for all deficiencies.” 

15 “O, you mean Rashleigh?” said Miss Vernon. 

“Indeed I do not; I was thinking — forgive me — of 
some person much nearer me.” 

“I suppose it would be proper not to understand your 
civility ? — But that is not my way — I don’t make a courtesy 
20 for it because I am sitting on horseback. But, seriously, 
I deserve your exception, for I am the only conversable 
being about the Hall, except the old. priest and Rashleigh.” 

“And who is Rashleigh, for Heaven’s sake?” 

“Rashleigh is one who would fain have every one like 
25 him for his own sake. He is Sir Hildebrand’s youngest son — 
about your own age, but not so — not well looking, in short. 
But nature has given him a mouthful of common sense, and 
the priest has added a bushelful of learning ; he is what we 
call a very clever man in this country, where clever men 
30 are scarce. Bred to the church, but in no hurry to take 
orders.” 

“To the Catholic Church?” 

“The Catholic Church! what Church else?” said the 


ROB ROY 


35 


young lady. “But I forgot — they told me you are a heretic. 

Is that true, Mr. Osbaldistone ? ” 

“I must not deny the charge.” 

“And yet you have been abroad, and in Catholic coun- 
tries ?” s 

“For nearly four years.” 

“You have seen convents?” 

“Often; but I have not seen much in them which recom- 
mended the Catholic religion.” 

“Are not the inhabitants happy?” io 

“Some are unquestionably so, whom either a profound 
sense of devotion, or an experience of the persecutions and 
misfortunes of the world, or a natural apathy of temper, had 
led into retirement. Those who have adopted a life of seclu- 
sion from sudden and overstrained enthusiasm, or in hasty 15 
resentment of some disappointment or mortification, are 
very miserable. The quickness of sensation soon returns, 
and like the wilder animals in a menagerie, they are restless 
under confinement, while others muse or fatten in cells of 
no larger dimensions than theirs.” 20 

“And what,” continued Miss Vernon, “becomes of those 
victims who are condemned to a convent by the will of 
others? what do they resemble? especially, what do they 
resemble, if they are born to enjoy life, and feel its blessings ? ” 
“They are like imprisoned singing-birds,” replied ‘I, “con- 25 
demned to wear out their lives in confinement, which they 
try to beguile by the exercise of accomplishments which 
would have adorned society had they been left at large.” 

“I shall be,” returned Miss Vernon — “that is,” said she, 
correcting herself — “I should be rather like the wild hawk, 30 
who, barred the free exercise of his soar through heaven, 
will dash himself to pieces against the bars of his cage. But 
to return to Rashleigh,” said she, in a more lively tone, “you 


36 


ROB ROY 


will think him the pleasantest man you ever saw in your life, 
Mr. Osbaldistone, — that is, for a week at least. If he 
could find out a blind mistress, never man would be so secure 
of conquest ; but the eye breaks the spell that enchants the 
5 ear. — But here we are in the court of the old hall, which 
looks as wild and old-fashioned as any of its inmates. There 
is no great toilette kept at Osbaldistone Hall, you must 
know.” I could not help saying, “that, judging of the 
family from what I saw, I should suppose the toilette a very 
io unnecessary care.” 

“That’s very politely said — though, perhaps, I ought not 
to understand in what sense it was meant,” replied Miss 
Vernon ; “but you will see a better apology for a little negli- 
gence when you meet the Orsons 0 you are to live amongst, 
15 whose forms no toilette could improve. But, as I said be- 
fore, the old dinner-bell will clang, or rather clank, in a few 
minutes — it cracked of its own accord on the day of the 
landing of King Willie, 0 and my uncle, respecting its prophetic 
talent, would never permit it to be mended. So do you hold 
20 my palfry, like a duteous knight, until I send some more 
humble squire to relieve you of the charge.” 

She threw me the rein as if we had been acquainted from 
our childhood, jumped from her saddle, tripped across the 
courtyard, and entered at a side-door, leaving me in admira- 
25 tion of her beauty, and astonished with the over-frankness 
of her manners, which seemed the more extraordinary at a 
time when the dictates of politeness, flowing from the court 
of the Grand Monarque Louis XIV.,° prescribed to the fair 
sex an unusual severity of decorum. I was left awkwardly 
30 enough in the centre of the court of the old hall, mounted 
on one horse, and holding another in my hand. 

The building afforded little to interest a stranger, had I 
been disposed to consider it attentively; the sides of the 


ROB ROY 


37 


quadrangle were of various architecture, and with their 
stone-shafted latticed windows, projecting turrets, and 
massive architraves, resembled the inside of a convent, or 
of one of the older and less splendid colleges of Oxford. 

At length we entered the building and reached a long vaulted 5 
room, floored with stone, where a range of oaken tables, of a 
weight and size too massive ever to be moved aside, were al- 
ready covered for dinner. This venerable apartment, which 
had witnessed the feasts of several generations of the Osbaldi- 
stone family, bore also evidence of their success in field sports. 10 
Huge antlers of deer, which might have been trophies of the 
hunting of Chevy Chace,° were ranged around the walls, in- 
terspersed with the stuffed skins of badgers, otters, martins, 
and other animals of the chase. Amidst some remnants 
of old armor, which had, perhaps, served against the Scotch, 15 
hung the more valued weapons of silvan war, cross-bows, 
guns of various device and construction, nets, fishing-rods, 
otter-spears, hunting-poles, with many other singular devices, 
and engines for taking or killing game. A few old pictures, 
dimmed with smoke, and stained with March beer, hung 20 
on the walls, representing knights and ladies, honored, 
doubtless, and renowned in their day; those frowning fear- 
fully from huge bushes of wig and of beard ; and these look- 
ing delightfully with all their might at the roses which they 
brandished in their hands. 25 

I had just time to give a glance at these matters, when 
about twelve blue-coated servants burst into the hall with 
much tumult and talk, each rather employed in directing his 
comrades than in discharging his own duty. Some brought 
blocks and billets to the fire, which roared, blazed, and 30 
^ascended, half in smoke, half in flame, up a huge tunnel, 
with an opening wide enough to accommodate a stone seat 
within its ample vault, and which was fronted, by way of 


38 


ROB ROY 


chimney-piece, with a huge piece of heavy architecture, 
where the monsters of heraldry, embodied by the art of 
some Northumbrian chisel, grinned and ramped in red free- 
stone, now japanned by the smoke of centuries. Others 
S of these old-fashioned serving-men bore huge smoking dishes, 
loaded with substantial fare ; others brought in cups, flagons, 
bottles, yea barrels of liquor. All tramped, kicked, plunged, 
shouldered, and jostled, doing as little service with as much 
tumult as could well be imagined. At length, while the 
io dinner was, after various efforts, in the act of being arranged 
upon the board, “the clamor much of men and dogs,” the 
cracking of whips, calculated for the intimidation of the 
latter, voices loud and high, steps which, impressed by the 
heavy-heeled boots of the period, announced the arrival of 
1 5 those for whose benefit the preparations were made. The 
hubbub among the servants rather increased than diminished 
as this crisis approached. Some called to make haste, — 
others to take time, — some exhorted to stand out of the 
way, and make room for Sir Hildebrand and the young 
20 squires, — some to close round the table and be in the way, 
— some bawled to open, some to shut, a pair of folding-doors 
which divided the hall from a sort of gallery, as I after- 
ward learned, or withdrawing-room, fitted up with black 
wainscot. Opened the doors were at length, and in rushed 
25 curs and men, — eight dogs, the domestic chaplain, the village 
doctor, my six cousins, and my uncle. 


CHAPTER VI 


The rude hall rocks — they come, they come, — 

The din of voices shakes the dome ; — 

In stalk the various forms, and, drest 
In varying morion, varying vest, 

All march with haughty step — all proudly shake the crest. 

Penrose . 0 

If Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone was in no hurry to greet 
his nephew, of whose arrival he must have been informed 
for some time, he had important avocations to allege in 
excuse. “Had seen thee sooner, lad,” he exclaimed, after 
a rough shake of the hand, and a hearty welcome to Osbaldi- 5 
stone Hall, “but had to see the hounds kennelled first. Thou 
art welcome to the Hall, lad — here is thy cousin Percie, 
thy cousin Thornie, and thy cousin John — your cousin 
Dick, your cousin Wilfred, and — stay, where’s Rashleigh ? 

— ay, here’s Rashleigh — take thy long body aside, Thornie, 10 
and let’s see thy brother a bit — your cousin Rashleigh. 

So, thy father has thought on the old Hall, and old Sir Hilde- 
brand at last — better late than never — Thou art welcome, 
lad, and there’s enough. Where’s my little Die ? — ay, here 
she comes — this is my niece Die, my wife’s brother’s daughter 15* 

— the prettiest girl in our dales, be the other who she may — 
and so now let’s to the sirloin.” — 

To gain some idea of the person who held this language, 
you must suppose, my dear Tresham, a man aged about 
sixty, in a hunting suit which had once been richly laced, 20 

39 


40 


ROB ROY 


but whose splendor had been tarnished by many a Novem- 
ber and December storm. Sir Hildebrand, notwithstanding 
the abruptness of his present manner, had, at one period of 
his life, known courts and camps; had held a commission 
5 in the army which encamped on Hounslow Heath 0 previous 
to the Revolution — and, recommended perhaps by his 
religion, had been knighted about the same period by the 
unfortunate and ill-advised James II. But the Knight’s 
dreams of further preferment, if he ever entertained any, 
io had died away at the crisis which drove his patron from the 
throne, and since that period he had spent a sequestered life 
upon his native domains. Notwithstanding his rusticity, 
however, Sir Hildebrand retained much of the exterior of a 
gentleman, and appeared among his sons as the remains of 
is a Corinthian pillar, defaced and overgrown with moss and 
lichen, might have looked, if contrasted with the rough un- 
hewn masses of upright stones in Stonhenge, 0 or any other 
Druidical temple. The sons were, indeed, heavy unadorned 
blocks as the eye would desire to look upon. Tall, stout, 
20 and comely, all and each of the five eldest seemed to want 
alike the Promethean fire° of intellect, and the exterior grace 
and manner, which, in the polished world, sometimes supply 
mental deficiency. Their most valuable moral quality 
seemed to be the good-humor and content which was ex- 
25 pressed in their heavy features, and their only pretence 
to accomplishment was their dexterity in field sports, for 
which alone they lived. The strong Gyas,° and the strong 
Cloanthus, are not less distinguished by the poet, than the 
strong Percival, the strong Thorncliff, the strong John, 
30 Richard, and Wilfred Osbaldistones, were by outward ap- 
pearance. 

But, as if to indemnify herself for a uniformity so uncom- 
mon in her productions, Dame Nature had rendered Rash- 


ROB ROY 


41 


leigh Osbaldistone a striking contrast in person and manner, 
and, as I afterward learned, in temper and talents, not only 
to his brothers, but to most men whom I had hitherto met 
with. When Percie, Thornie, and Co. had respectively 
nodded, grinned, and presented their shoulder rather than 5 
their hand, as their father named them to their new kinsman, 
Rashleigh stepped forward, and welcomed me, to Osbaldi- 
stone Hall, with the air and manner of a man of the world. 
His appearance was not in itself prepossessing. He was of 
low stature, whereas all his brethren seemed to be descendants 10 
of Anak°; and while they were handsomely formed, Rash- 
leigh, though strong in person, was bull-necked and cross- 
made, and from some early in j ury in his youth had an imper- 
fection in his gait, so much resembling an absolute halt, 
that many alleged that it formed the obstacle to his taking 15 
orders; the Church of Rome, as is well known, admitting 
none to the clerical profession who labors under any personal 
deformity. Others, however, ascribed this unsightly defect 
to a mere awkward habit, and contended that it did not 
amount to a personal disqualification from holy orders. 20 
The features of Rashleigh were such, as, having looked 
upon, we in vain 'wish to banish from our memory, to which 
they recur as objects of painful curiosity, although we dwell 
upon them with a feeling of dislike, and even of disgust. 

It was not the actual plainness of his face, taken separately 25 
from the meaning, which made this strong impression. His 
features were, indeed, irregular, but they were by no means 
vulgar; and his keen dark eyes, and shaggy eyebrows, 
redeemed his face from the charge of commonplace ugliness. 
But there was in these eyes an expression of art and design, 30 
and, on provocation, a ferocity tempered by caution, which 
nature had made obvious to the most ordinary physiognomist, 
perhaps with the same intention that she has given the rattle 


42 


ROB ROY 


to the poisonous snake. As if to compensate him for these 
disadvantages of exterior, Rashleigh Osbaldistone was pos- 
sessed of a voice the most soft, mellow, and rich in its tones 
that I ever heard, and was at no loss for language of every 
5 sort suited to so fine an organ. His first sentence of welcome 
was hardly ended, ere I internally agreed with Miss Vernon, 
that my new kinsman would make an instant conquest of a 
mistress whose ears alone were to judge his cause. He was 
about to place himself beside me at dinner, but Miss Vernon, 
iowho, as the only female in the family, arranged all such 
matters according to her own pleasure, contrived that I 
should sit betwixt Thorncliff and herself ; and it can scarce 
be doubted that I favored this more advantageous arrange- 
ment. 

15 “I want to speak with you,” she said, “and I have placed 
honest Thornie betwixt Rashleigh and you on purpose. He 
will be like — 

Feather-bed ’twixt castle wall 
And heavy brunt of cannon ball, 

20 while I, your earliest acquaintance in this intellectual family, 
ask of you how you like us all ? ” 

“A very comprehensive question, Miss Vernon, consider- 
ing how short while I have been at Osbaldistone Hall.” 

“Oh, the philosophy of our family lies on the surface — 
25 there are minute shades distinguishing the individuals, 
which require the eye of an intelligent observer; but the 
species, as naturalists I believe call it, may be distinguished 
and characterized at once.” 

“My five elder cousins, then, are I presume of pretty 
30 nearly the same character.” 

“Yes, they form a happy compound of sot, gamekeeper, 
bully, horse-jockey, and fool; but as they say there cannot 


9 


ROB ROY 


43 


be found two leaves on the same tree exactly alike, so these 
happy ingredients, being mingled in somewhat various pro- 
portions in each individual, make an agreeable variety for 
those who like to study character.” 

“Give me a sketch, if you please, Miss Vernon.” 5 

“You shall have them all in a family-piece, a full length — 
the favor is too easily granted to be refused. Percie, the 
son and heir, has more of the sot than of the gamekeeper, 
bully, horse-jockey, or fool — My precious Thornie is more 
of the bully than the sot, gamekeeper, jockey, or fool — John, 10 
who sleeps whole weeks amongst the hills, has most of the 
gamekeeper — The jockey is powerful with Dickon, who 
rides two hundred miles by day and night to be bought and 
sold at a horse-race — And the fool predominates so much 
over Wilfred’s other qualities, that he may be termed a fool 15 
positive.” 

“A goodly collection, Miss Vernon, and the individual 
varieties belong to a most interesting species. But is there 
no room on the canvas for Sir Hildebrand?” 

“I love my uncle,” was her reply : “I owe him some kind- 20 
ness (such it was meant for at least), and I will leave you 
to draw his picture yourself, when you know him better.” 

“Come,” thought I to myself, “I am glad there is some 
forbearance. After all, who would have looked for such 
bitter satire from a creature so young, and so exquisitely 25 
beautiful ? ” 

“You are thinking of me,” she said, bending her dark eyes 
on me, as if she meant to pierce through my very soul. 

“I certainly was,” I replied, with some embarrassment at 
the determined suddenness of the question, and then, en- 30 
deavoring to give a complimentary turn to my frank avowal 
— “How is it possible I should think of anything else, seated 
as I have the happiness to be?” 


44 


ROB ROY 


She smiled with such an expression of concentrated haughti- 
ness as she alone could have thrown into her countenance. 
“I must inform you at once, Mr. Osbaldistone, that compli- 
ments are entirely lost upon me ; do not, therefore, throw 
5 away your pretty sayings — they serve fine gentlemen who 
travel in the country, instead of the toys, beads, and bracelets, 
which navigators carry to propitiate the savage inhabitants 
of newly-discovered lands. Do not exhaust your stock in 
trade ; — - you will find natives in Northumberland to whom 

1 o your fine things will recommend you — on me they would 

be utterly thrown away, for I happen to know their real 
value.” 

I was silenced and confounded. 

“You remind me at this moment,” said the young lady, 
is resuming her lively and indifferent manner, “of the fairy 
tale, where the man finds all the money which he had carried 
to market suddenly changed into pieces of slate. I have 
cried down and ruined your whole stock of complimentary 
discourse by one unlucky observation. But come, never 
20 mind it — You are belied, Mr. Osbaldistone, unless you have 
much better conversation than these fadeurs, 0 which every 
gentleman with a toupet thinks himself obliged to recite 
to an unfortunate girl, merely because she is dressed in silk 
and gauze, while he wears superfine cloth with embroidery. 

2 5 Your natural paces, as any of my five cousins might say, 

are far preferable to your complimentary amble. Endeavor 
to forget my unlucky sex ; call me Tom Vernon, if you have 
.a mind, but speak to me as you would to a friend and com- 
panion; you have no idea how much I shall like you.” 

30 “That would be a bribe indeed,” returned I. 

“Again!” replied Miss Vernon, holding up her finger; 
“I told you I would not bear the shadow of a compliment. 
And now, when you have pledged my uncle, who threatens 


ROB ROY 45 

you with what he calls a brimmer, I will tell you what you 
think of me.” 

The bumper being pledged by me, as a dutiful nephew, and 
some other general intercourse of the table having taken 
place, the continued and business-like clang of knives and 5 
forks, and the devotion of cousin Thorncliff on my right 
hand, and cousin Dickon, who sat on Miss Vernon’s left, to 
the huge quantities of meat with which they heaped their 
plates, made them serve as two occasional partitions, sepa- 
rating us from the rest of the company, and leaving us to our 10 
t&te-a-tete. “And now,” said I, “give me leave’ to ask you 
frankly, Miss Vernon, what you suppose I am thinking of 
you ! — I could tell you what I really do think, but you 
have interdicted praise.” 

“I do not want your assistance. I am conjuror enough 15 
to tell your thoughts without it. You need not open the 
casement of your bosom ; I see through it. You think 
me a strange bold girl, half coquette, half romp; desirous 
of attracting attention by the freedom of her manners and 
loudness of her conversation, because she is ignorant of 20 
what the Spectator calls the softer graces of the sex; and 
perhaps you think I have some particular plan of storming 
you into admiration. I should be sorry to shock your self- 
opinion, but you were never more mistaken. All the confi- 
dence I have reposed in you, I would have given as readily 25 
to your father, if I thought he could have understood me. 

I am in this happy family as much secluded from intelligent 
listeners as Sancho 0 in the Sierra Morena, and when oppor- 
tunity offers, I must speak or die. I assure you I would 
not have told you a word of all this curious intelligence, had 30 
I cajed a pin who knew it or knew it not.” 

“It is very cruel in you, Miss Vernon, to take away all 
particular marks of favor from your communications, but 


' 46 


ROB ROY 


I must receive them on your own terms. — You have not 
included Mr. Rashleigh Osbaldistone in your domestic 
sketches.” 

She shrunk, I thought, at this remark, and hastily an- 
5 swered, in a much lower tone, “Not a word of Rashleigh! 
His ears are so acute when his selfishness is interested, that 
the sounds would reach him even through the mass of Thorn- 
cliff’s person, stuffed as it is with beef, venison-pasty, and 
pudding.” 

10 “Yes,” I replied; “but peeping past the living screen 
which divides us, before I put the question, I perceived that 
Mr. Rashleigh’s chair was empty — he has left the table.” 

“I would not have you be too sure of that,” Miss Vernon 
replied. “Take my advice, and when you speak of Rash- 
15 leigh, get up to the top of Otter scope-hill, where you can 
§ee for twenty miles round you in every direction — stand 
on the very peak, and speak in whispers; and, after all, 
don’t be too sure that the bird of the air will not carry the 
matter. Rashleigh has been my tutor for four years; we 
20 are mutually tired of each other, and we shall heartily rejoice 
at our approaching separation.” 

“Mr. Rashleigh leaves Osbaldistone Hall, then?” 

“Yes, in a few days; — did you not know that? — your 
father must keep his resolutions much more secret than 
25 Sir Hildebrand. Why, when my uncle was informed that 
you were to be his guest for some time, and that your father 
desired to have one of his hopeful sons to fill up the lucrative 
situation in his counting-house which was vacant by your 
obstinacy, Mr. Francis, the good knight held a cour pleniere 0 
30 of all his family, including the butler, housekeeper, and game- 
keeper. This reverend assembly of the peers and hqpse- 
hold officers of Osbaldistone Hall was not convoked, as you 
may suppose, to elect your substitute, because, as Rashleigh 


ROB ROY 


47 


alone possessed more arithmetic than was necessary to 
calculate the odds on a fighting-cock, none but he could be 
supposed qualified for the situation. But some solemn 
sanction was necessary for transforming Rashleigh’s destina- 
tion from starving as a Catholic priest to thriving as a wealthy 5 
banker; and it was not without some reluctance that the 
acquiescence of the assembly was obtained to such an act 
of degradation/’ 

“I can conceive the scruples — but how were they got 
over?” 10 

“By the general wish, I believe, to get Rashleigh out of 
the house,” replied Miss Vernon. “Although youngest 
of the family, he has somehow or other got the entire man- 
agement of all the others; and every one is sensible of the 
subjection, though they cannot shake it off. If any one 15 
opposes him, he is sure to rue having done so before the year 
goes about; and if you do him a very important service, 
you may rue it still more.” 

“At any rate,” answered I, smiling, “I should look about 
me ; for I have been the cause, however unintentionally, of 20 
his change of situation.” 

“Yes; and whether he regards it as an advantage or dis- 
advantage, he will owe you a grudge for it — But here comes 
cheese, radishes, and a bumper to church and king, the hint 
for chaplains and ladies to disappear ; and I, the sole repre- 25 
sentative of womanhood at Osbaldistone Hall, retreat, as 
in duty bound.” 

She vanished as she spoke, leaving me in astonishment 
at the mingled character of shrewdness, audacity, and frank- 
ness, which her conversation displayed. I despair con- 30 
veying to you the least idea of her manner, although I have, 
as nearly as I can remember, imitated her language. In 
fact, there was a mixture of untaught simplicity, as well as 


48 


ROB ROY 


native shrewdness and haughty boldness, in her manner, and 
all were modified and recommended by the play of the most 
beautiful features I had ever beheld. 

After Miss Vernon quitted the apartment, the bottle 
5 circulated, or rather flew, around the table in unceasing 
revolution. My foreign education had given me a distaste 
to intemperance, then and yet too common a vice among 
my countrymen. The conversation which seasoned such 
orgies was as little to my taste, and if anything could render 
ioit more disgusting, it was the relationship of the company. 
I therefore seized a lucky opportunity, and made my escape 
through a side door, leading I knew not whither, rather 
than endure any longer the sight of father and sons practising 
the same degrading intemperance, and holding the same 
is coarse and disgusting conversation. I was pursued, of 
course, as I had expected, to be reclaimed by force, as a 
deserter from the shrine of Bacchus. 0 When I heard the 
whoop and hollo, and the tramp of the heavy boots of my 
pursuers on the winding stair which I was descending, I 
20 plainly foresaw I should be overtaken unless I could get into 
the open air. I therefore threw open a casement in the 
staircase, which looked into an old-fashioned garden, and 
as the height did not exceed six feet, I jumped out without 
hesitation, and soon heard far behind the “hey whoop! 
25 stole away ! stole away ! ” of my baffled pursuers. I ran down 
one alley, walked fast up another ; and then, conceiving 
myself out of all danger of pursuit, I slackened my pace into 
a quiet stroll, enjoying the cool air which the heat of the 
wine I had been obliged to swallow, as well as that of my 
30 rapid retreat, rendered doubly grateful. 

As I sauntered on, I found the gardener hard at his even- 
ing employment, and saluted him, as I paused to look at his 
work. “Good even, my friend.” 


ROB ROY 


49 


“Glide e’en — gude e’en t’ye,” answered the man, with- 
out looking up, and in a tone which at once indicated his 
northern extraction. 

“Fine weather for your work, my friend.” 

“It’s no that muckle to be compleened o’,” answered 5 
the man, with that limited degree of praise which gardeners 
and farmers usually bestow on the very best weather. Then 
raising his head, as if to see who spoke to him, he touched 
his Scotch bonnet with an air of respect, as he observed, 
“Eh, gude safe us ! — it’s a sight for sair een, to see a gold- 10 
laced jeistiecor 0 in the Ha’ garden sae late at ’een.” 

“A gold-laced what, my good friend?” 

“Ou, a jeistiecor — that’s a jacket like your ain, there. 
They hae other things to do wi’ them up yonder — unbutton- 
ing them to make room for the beef and the bag-puddings, 15 
and the claret-wine, nae doubt — that’s the ordinary for 
evening lecture on this side the border.” 

“There’s no such plenty of good cheer in your country, 
my good friend,” I replied, “as to tempt you to sit so late 
at it.” 20 

“Hout, sir, ye ken little about Scotland; it’s no for want 
of gude vivers — the best of fish, flesh, and fowl hae we, by 
sybos, ingans, turneeps, and other garden fruit. But we 
hae mense and discretion, and are moderate of our mouths ; 

— but here, frae the kitchen to the ha’, it’s fill and fetch 25 
mair, frae the tae end of the four-and-twenty till the tother. 
Even their fast days — they ca’ it fasting when they hae 
the best o’ sea-fish frae Hartlepool and Sunderland 0 by land 
carriage, forbye trouts, grilses, salmon, and a’ the lave o’t, 
and so they make their very fasting a kind of luxury and 30 
abomination; and then the awfu’ masses and matins of 
the puir deceived souls — But I shouldna speak about them, 
for your honor will be a Roman, I’se warrant, like the lave.” 

E 


50 


ROB ROY 


“Not I, my friend; I was bred an English presbyterian, 
or dissenter.” 

“The right hand of fellowship to your honor, then,” 
quoth the gardener, with as much alacrity as his hard features 
S were capable of expressing, and, as if to show that his good- 
will did not rest on words, he plucked forth a huge horn 
snuff-box, or mull, as he called it, and proffered a pinch 
with a most fraternal grin. 

Having accepted his courtesy, I asked him if he had been 
io long a domestic at Osbaldistone Hall. 

“I have been fighting with wild beasts at Ephesus,” 0 
said he, looking toward the building, “for the best part of 
these four-and-twenty years, as sure as my name’s Andrew 
Fairservice.” 

is “But, my excellent friend, Andrew Fairservice, if your 
religion and your temperance are so much offended by Roman 
rituals and southern hospitality, it seems to me that you 
must have been putting yourself to an unnecessary penance 
all this while, and that you might have found a service where 
20 they eat less, and are more orthodox in their worship. I 
dare say it cannot be want of skill which prevented your 
being placed more to your satisfaction.” 

“It disna become me to speak to the point of my qualifica- 
tions,” said Andrew, looking round him with great compla- 
2 5cency; “but nae doubt I should understand my trade of 
horticulture, seeing I was bred in the parish of Dreepdaily, 
where they raise long-kale under glass, and force the early 
nettles for their spring kale. And, to speak truth, I hae 
been flitting every term these four-and-twenty years; but 
30 when the time comes, there’s aye something to saw that I 
would like to see sawn, — or something to maw that I would 
like to see mawn, — or something to ripe that I would like 
to see ripen, — and sae I e’en daiker on wi’ the family frae 


ROB ROY 


51 


year’s end to year’s end. And I wad say for certain, that 
I am gaun to quit at Cannlemas, only I was just as positive 
on it twenty years syne, and I find mysell still turning up 
the mouls here, for a’ that. Forbye that, to tell your honor 
the evendown truth, there’s nae better place ever offered 5 
to Andrew. But if your honor wad wush me to ony place 
where I wad hear pure doctrine, and hae a free cow’s grass, 
and a cot, and a yard, and mair than ten punds of annual 
fee, and where there’s nae leddy about the town to count 
the apples, I’se hold mysell muckle indebted t’ye.” 10 

“Bravo, Andrew! I perceive you’ll lose no preferment 
for want of asking patronage.” 

“I canna see what for I should,” replied Andrew; “it’s 
no a generation to wait till ane’s worth’s discovered, I 
trow.” iS 

“But you are no friend, I observe, to the ladies.” 

“Na, by my troth, I keep up the first gardener’s quarrel 
to them. They’re fasheous bargains — aye crying for 
apricocks, pears, plums, and apples, summer and winter, 
without distinction o’ seasons ; but we hae nae slices o’ 20 
the spare rib here, be praised for’t! except auld Martha, 
and she’s weel eneugh pleased wi’ the freedom o’ the berry- 
bushes to her sister’s weans, when they come to drink tea 
in a holiday in the housekeeper’s room, and wi’ a wheen cod- 
lings now and then for her ain private supper.” 25 

“You forget your young mistress.” 

“What mistress do I forget? — whae’s that?” 

“Your young mistress, Miss Vernon.” 

“What! the lassie Vernon? — She’s nae mistress o’ mine, 
man. I wish she was her ain mistress ; and I wish she mayna 30 
be some other body’s mistress or it’s lang — She’s a wild 
slip that.” 

“Indeed!” said I, more interested than I cared to own to 


52 


ROB ROY 


myself, or to show to the fellow — “why, Andrew, you know 
all the secrets of this family.” 

“If I ken them, I can keep them,” said Andrew; “they 
winna work in my wame like barm in a barrel, I’se warrant 
5 ye. Miss Die is — but it’s neither beef nor brose o’ mine.” 

And he began to dig with a great semblance of assiduity. 

“What is Miss Vernon, Andrew? I am a friend of the 
family, and should like to know.” 

“Other than a gude ane, I’m fearing,” said Andrew, closing 
io one eye hard, and shaking his head with a grave and mysteri- 
ous look — “something glee’d — your honor understands 
me?” 

“I cannot say I do,” said I, “Andrew; but I should like 
to hear you explain yourself ; ” and therewithal I slipped a 
1 5 crown-piece into Andrew’s horn-hard hand. The touch of 
the silver made him grin a ghastly smile, as he nodded slowly, 
and thrust it into his breeches pocket ; and then, like a man 
who well understood that there was value to be returned, 
stood up, and rested his arms on his spade, with his features 
20 composed into the most important gravity, as for some serious 
communication. 

“Ye maun ken, then, young gentleman, since it imports 
you to know, that Miss Vernon is” — 

Here breaking off, he sucked in both his cheeks, till his 
25 lantern jaws and long chin assumed the appearance of a pair 
of nut-crackers ; winked hard once more, frowned, shook his 
head, and seemed to think his physiognomy had completed 
the information which his tongue had not fully told. 

“Good God!” said I — “so young, so beautiful, so early 
30 lost!” 

“Troth ye may say sae — she’s in a manner lost, body 
and saul; forby being a Papist, I’se uphaud her for” — 
and his northern caution prevailed, and he was again silent. 


ROB ROY 


53 


“For what, sir?” said I sternly. “I insist on knowing the 
plain meaning of all this.” 

“Ou, just for the bitterest Jacobite in the haill shire.” 

“Pshaw! a Jacobite? — is that all?” 

Andrew looked at me with some astonishment, at hearing s 
his information treated so lightly; and then muttering, 
“Aweel, it’s the warst thing I ken aboot the lassie, how- 
soe’er,” he resumed his spade, like the king of the Vandals, 
in Marmontel’s late novel . 0 


CHAPTER VII 


Bardolph. — The sheriff, with a monstrous watch, is at 
the door. Henry IV. First Part. 

Whether I dreamed of her or not, I cannot satisfy you, 
for I was tired and slept soundly. But she was the first 
person I thought of in the morning, when waked at dawn 
by the cheerful notes of the hunting horn.° To start up, 
S and direct my horse to be saddled, was my first movement ; 
and in a few minutes I waS in the court-yard, where men, dogs, 
and horses, were in full preparation. 

As we rode thither, I observed to Diana, “that I did not 
see my cousin Rashleigh in the field to which she replied, 
io — “O no — he’s a mighty hunter, but it’s after the fashion 
of Nimrod, 0 and his game is man.” 

The dogs now brushed into the cover, with the appropriate 
encouragement from the hunters — all was business, bustle, 
and activity. My cousins were soon too much interested 
1 5 in the business of the morning to take any further notice 
of me, unless that I overheard Dickon the horse-jockey 
whisper to Wilfred the fool — “Look thou, an our French 
cousin be nat off a’ first burst.” 

To which Wilfred answered, “Like enow, for he has a 
20 queer outlandish binding on’s castor.” 

Thorncliff, however, who in his rude way seemed not 
absolutely insensible to the beauty of his kinswoman, ap- 
peared determined to keep us company more closely than 

54 


ROB ROY 


55 


his brothers, — perhaps to watch what passed betwixt Miss 
Vernon and me — perhaps to enjoy my expected mishaps 
in the chase. In the last particular he was disappointed. 
After beating in vain for the greater part of the morning, a 
fox was at length found, who led us a chase of two hours, 5 
in the course of which, notwithstanding the ill-omened French 
binding upon my hat, I sustained my character as a horse- 
man to the admiration of my uncle and Miss Vernon, and 
the secret disappointment of those who expected me to 
disgrace it. Reynard, however, proved too wily for his 10 
pursuers, and the hounds were at fault. I could at this 
time observe in Miss Vernon’s manner an impatience of the 
close attendance which we received from Thorncliff Osbaldi- 
stone; and, as that active-spirited young lady never hesi- 
tated at taking the readiest means to gratify any wish of is 
the moment, she said to him, in a tone of reproach — “I 
wonder, Thornie, what keeps you dangling at my horse’s 
crupper all this morning, when you know the earths 0 above 
Woolverton-mill are not stopt.” 

“ I know no such an thing then, Miss Die, for the miller 20 
swore himself as black as night, that he stopt them at twelve 
o’clock midnight that was.” 

“O fie upon you, Thornie! would you trust to a miller’s 
word ? — and these earths, too, where we lost the fox three 
times this season ! and you on your grey mare, that can gallop 25 
there and back in ten minutes ! ” 

“Well, Miss Die, I’se go to Woolverton then, and if the 
earths are not stopt, I’se raddle Dick the miller’s bones for 
him.” 

“Do, my dear Thornie; horsewhip the rascal to purpose 30 
— via — fly away, and about it ; ” — Thorncliff went off at 
the gallop — “or get horsewhipt yourself, which will serve 
my purpose just as well. — I must teach them all discipline 


56 


ROB ROY 


and obedience to the word of command. I am raising a 
regiment, you must know. Thornie shall be my sergeant- 
major, Dickon my riding-master, and Wilfred, with his deep 
dub-a-dub tones, that speak but three syllables at a time, my 
5 kettle-drummer.” 

“And Rashleigh ? ” 

“Rashleigh shall be my scout-master.” 

“And will you find no employment for me, most lovely 
colonel?” 

lo “You shall have the choice of being pay-master, or plunder- 
master, to the corps. But see how the dogs puzzle about 
there. Come, Mr. Frank, the scent’s cold; they won’t 
recover it there this while; follow me, I have a view to 
show you.” 

15 And in fact, she cantered up to the top of a gentle hill, 
commanding an extensive prospect. Casting her eyes around, 
to see that no one was near us, she drew up her horse beneath 
a few birch-trees, which screened us from the rest of the 
hunting-field — “Do you see yon peaked, brown, heathy 

20 hill, having something like a whitish speck upon the side?” 

“Terminating that long ridge of broken moorish uplands? 
— I see it distinctly.” 

“That whitish speck is a rock called Hawkesmore-crag, 
and Hawkesmore-crag is in Scotland.” 

25 “Indeed! I did not think we had been so near Scotland.” 

“It is so, I assure you, and your horse will carry you there 
in two hours.” 

“I shall hardly give him the trouble; why, the distance 
must be eighteen miles as the crow flies.” 

30 “You may have my mare, if you think her less blown — 
I say, that in two hours you may be in Scotland.” 

“And I say, that I have so little desire to be there, that 
if my horse’s head were over the Border, I would not give 


ROB ROY 57 

his tail the trouble of following. What should I do in Scot- 
land?” 

“ Provide for your safety, if I must speak plainly. Do you 
understand me now, Mr. Frank?” 

“Not a whit; you are more and more oracular.” 5 

“Then, on my word, you either mistrust me most unjustly, 
and are a better dissembler than Rashleigh Osbaldistone 
himself, or you know nothing of what is imputed to you; 
and then no wonder you stare at me in that grave manner, 
which I can scarce see without laughing.” io 

“Upon my word of honor, Miss Vernon,” said I, with 
an impatient feeling of her childish disposition to mirth, 

“I have not the most distant conception of what you mean. 

I am happy to afford you any subject of amusement, but I 
am quite ignorant in what it consists.” 15 

“Nay, there’s no sound jest after all,” said the young lady, 
composing herself ; “only one looks so very ridiculous when 
he is fairly perplexed. But the matter is serious enough. 

Do you know one Moray, or Morris, or some such name?” 
“Not that I can at present recollect.” 20 

“Think a moment. Did you not lately travel with some- 
body of such a name ? ” 

“The only man with whom I travelled for any length of time 
was a fellow whose soul seemed to lie in his portmanteau.” 

“Then it was like the soul of the licentiate Pedro Garcias, 0 25 
which lay among the ducats in his leathern purse. That man 
has been robbed, and he has lodged an information against 
you, as connected with the violence done to him.” 

“You jest, Miss Vernon !” 

“I do not, I assure you — the thing is an absolute fact.” 30 
“And do you,” said I, with strong indignation, which 
I did not attempt to suppress, “do you suppose me capable 
of meriting such a charge?” 


58 


ROB ROY 


“You would call me out for it, I suppose, had I the ad- 
vantage of being a man — You may do so as it is, if you like 
it — I can shoot flying, as well as leap a five-barred gate.” 

“And are colonel of a regiment of horse besides,” replied 
5 I, reflecting how idle it was to be angry with her — “But do 
explain the present jest to me.” 

“There’s no jest whatever,” said Diana; “you are accused 
of robbing this man, and my uncle believes it as well as I 
did.” 

io “Upon my honor, I am greatly obliged to my friends for 
their good opinion ! ” 

“Now do not, if you can help it, snort, and stare, and snuff 
the wind, and look so exceedingly like a startled horse — 
There’s no such offence as you suppose — you are not charged 
i $ with any petty larceny or vulgar felony — by no means. 
This fellow was carrying money from Government, both 
specie and bills, to pay the troops in the north; and it is 
said he has been also robbed of some despatches of great 
consequence.” 

20 “And so it is high treason, then, and not simple robbery, 
of which I am accused ! ” 

“Certainly — which, you know, has been in all ages ac- 
counted the crime of a gentleman. You will find plenty in 
this country, and one not far from your elbow, who think 
25 it a merit to distress the Hanoverian 0 government by every 
means possible.” 

“Neither my politics nor my morals, Miss Vernon, are 
of a description so accommodating.” 

“I really begin to believe that you are a Presbyterian 
30 and Hanoverian in good earnest. But what do you propose 
to do?” 

“Instantly to refute this atrocious calumny. — Before 
whom,” I asked, “was this extraordinary accusation laid?” 


ROB ROY 


59 


“Before old Squire Inglewood, who had sufficient unwilling- 
ness to receive it. He sent tidings to my uncle, I suppose, 
that he might smuggle you away into Scotland, out of reach 
of the warrant. But my uncle is sensible that his religion 
and old predilections render him obnoxious to Government, 5 
and that, were he caught playing booty, he would be dis- 
armed, and probably dismounted (which would be the 
worse evil of the two), as a Jacobite, papist, and suspected 
person.” 0 

“I can conceive that, sooner than lose his hunters, he 10 
would give up his nephew.” 

“His nephew, nieces, sons — daughters, if he had them, 
and whole generation,” said Diana; — “therefore trust 
not to him, even for a single moment, but make the best of 
your way before they can serve the warrant.” 15 

“That I shall certainly do; but it shall be to the house of 
this Squire Inglewood — Which way does it lie?” 

“About five miles off, in the low ground, behind yonder 
plantations — you may see the tower of the clock-house.” 

“I will be there in a few minutes,” said I, putting my horse 20 
in motion. 

“And I will go with you, and show you the way,” said 
Diana, putting her palfrey also to the trot. 

“Do not think of it, Miss Vernon,” I replied. “It is not 
— permit me the freedom of a friend — it is not proper, 25 
scarcely even delicate, in you to go with me on such an errand 
as I am now upon.” 

“I understand your meaning,” said Miss Vernon, a slight 
blush crossing her haughty brow; — “it is plainly spoken;” 
and after a moment’s pause she added, “and I believe kindly 30 
meant.” 

“It is indeed, Miss Vernon. Can you think me insensible 
of the interest you show me, or ungrateful for it?” said I, 


60 


ROB ROY 


with even more earnestness than I could have wished to 
express. “Yours is meant for true kindness, shown best 
at the hour of need. But I must not, for your own sake, — 
for the chance of misconstruction — suffer you to pursue 
5 the dictates of your generosity ; this is so public an occasion 
— it is almost like venturing into an open court of justice.” 

“And if it were not almost, but altogether entering into 
an open court of justice, do you think I would not go there 
if I thought it right, and wished to protect a friend? You 
io have no one to stand by you — you are a stranger ; and here, 
in the outskirts of the kingdom, country justices do odd things. 
My uncle has no desire to embroil himself in your affair; 
Rashleigh is absent, and were he here, there is no knowing 
which side he might take; the rest are all more stupid and 
15 brutal one than another. I will go with you, and I do not 
fear being able to serve you. I am no fine lady, to be terrified 
to death with law-books, hard words, or big wigs.” 

“But my dear Miss Vernon” — 

“But my dear Mr. Francis, be patient and quiet, and let 
20 me take my own way ; for when I take the bit between my 
teeth, there is no bridle will stop me.” 

While she spoke thus, we were advancing hastily toward 
Inglewood Place, while, as if to divert me from the task of 
further remonstrance, she drew a ludicrous picture of the 
25 magistrate and his clerk. — Inglewood was — according 
to her description — a whitewashed Jacobite; that is, one 
who, having been long a non-juror, like most of the other 
gentlemen of the country, had lately qualified himself to 
act as a justice, by taking the oaths to Government. “He 
30 had done so,” she said, “in compliance with the urgent 
request of most of his brother squires, who saw, with regret, 
that the palladium of silvan sport, the game-laws, were likely 
to fall into disuse for want of a magistrate who would enforce 


ROB ROY 


61 


them ; the nearest acting justice being the Mayor of New- 
castle, and he, as being rather inclined to the consumption 
of the game when properly dressed, than to its preservation 
when alive, was more partial, of course, to the cause of the 
poacher than of the sportsman. Resolving, therefore, that 5 
it was expedient some one of their number should sacrifice 
the scruples of Jacobitical loyalty to the good of the commu- 
nity, the Northumbrian country gentlemen imposed the duty 
on Inglewood, who, being very inert in most of his feelings 
and sentiments, might, they thought, comply with any politi- 10 
cal creed without much repugnance. Having thus procured 
the body of justice, they proceeded,” continued Miss Vernon, 
“to attach to it a clerk, by way of soul, to direct and animate 
its movements. Accordingly they got a sharp Newcastle 
attorney, called Jobson, who, to vary my metaphor, finds 15 
it a good thing enough to retail justice at the sign of Squire 
Inglewood, and, as his own emoluments depend on the 
quantity of business which he transacts, he hooks in his 
principal for a great deal more employment in the justice line 
than the honest squire had ever bargained for ; so that 20 
no apple-wife within the circuit of ten miles can settle her 
account with a costermonger without an audience of the 
reluctant Justice and his alert clerk, Mr. Joseph Jobson.” 

As Miss Vernon concluded this whimsical description, we 
found ourselves in front of Inglewood Place, a handsome, 25 
though old-fashioned building, which showed the conse- 
quence of the family. 


CHAPTER VIII 


“Sir,” quoth the Lawyer, “not to flatter ye, 

You have as good and fair a battery 
As heart could wish, and need not shame 
The proudest man alive to claim.” 

Butler . 0 

Our horses were taken by a servant in Sir Hildebrand’s 
livery, whom we found in the court-yard, and we entered 
the house. In the entrance-hall I was somewhat surprised, 
and my fair companion still more so, when we met Rash- 
5 leigh Osbaldistone, who could not help showing equal wonder 
at our rencontre. 

“Rashleigh,” said Miss Vernon, without giving him time 
to ask any question, “you have heard of Mr. Francis Osbaldi- 
stone’s affair, and you have been talking to the Justice about 
ioit?” 

“Certainly,” said Rashleigh, composedly — “it has been 
my business here. — I have been endeavoring,” he said, with 
a bow to me, “to render my cousin what service I can. But 
I am sorry to meet him here.” 

15 “As a friend and relation, Mr. Osbaldistone, you ought to 
have been sorry to have met me anywhere else, at a time 
when the charge of my reputation required me to be on this 
spot as soon as possible.” 

“True; but judging from what my father said, I should 
20 have supposed a short retreat into Scotland — just till 
matters should be smoothed over in a quiet way” — 

I answered with warmth, “That I had no prudential 
& 62 


ROB ROY 


63 


measures to observe, and desired to have nothing smoothed 
over ; — on the contrary, I was come to inquire into a ras- 
cally calumny, which I was determined to probe to the bot- 
tom.” 

“Mr. Francis Osbaldistone is an innocent man, Rashleigh,” 5 
said Miss Vernon, “and he demands an investigation of the 
charge against him, and I intend to support him in it.” 

“You do, my pretty cousin? — I should think, now, Mr. 
Francis Osbaldistone was likely to be as effectually, and 
rather more delicately, supported by my presence than by 10 
yours.” 

“Oh, certainly; but two heads are better than one, you 
know.” 

“Especially such a head as yours, my pretty Die,” advanc- 
ing and taking her hand with a familiar fondness, which 15 
made me think him fifty times uglier than nature had made 
him. She led him, however, a few steps aside; they con- 
versed in an under voice, and she appeared to insist upon some 
request which he was unwilling or unable to comply with. 

I never saw so strong a contrast betwixt the expression of 20 
two faces. Miss Vernon’s, from being earnest, became angry ; 
her eyes and cheeks became more animated, her color mounted, 
she clenched her little hand, and stamping on the ground 
with her tiny foot, seemed to listen with a mixture of con- 
tempt and indignation to the apologies, which, from his 25 
look of civil deference, his composed and respectful smile, 
his body rather drawing back than advanced, and other 
signs of look and person, I concluded him to be pouring out 
at her feet. At length she flung away from him, with “I 
will have it so.” 30 

“It is not in my power — there is no possibility of it. — 
Would you think it, Mr. Osbaldistone?” said he, addressing 
me — 


64 


ROB ROY 


“You are not mad?” said she, interrupting him. 

“Would you think it?” said he, without attending to her 
hint — “Miss Vernon insists, not only that I know your 
innocence (of which, indeed, it is impossible for any one to 
5 be more convinced), but that I must also be acquainted with 
the real perpetrators of the outrage on this fellow — if indeed 
such an outrage has been committed. Is this -reasonable, 
Mr. Osbaldistone ? ” 

“I will not allow any appeal to Mr. Osbaldistone, Rash- 
ioleigh,” said the young lady; “he does not know, as I do, 
the incredible extent and accuracy of your information on all 
points.” 

“As I am a gentleman, you do me more honor than I 
deserve.” 

15 “Justice, Rashleigh — only justice: — and it is only 
justice which I expect at your hands.” 

“You are a tyrant, Diana,” he answered, with a sort of 
sigh — “a capricious tyrant, and rule your friends with a 
rod of iron. Still, however, it shall be as you desire. But 
20 you ought not to be here — you know you ought not ; you 
must return, with me.” 

Then turning from Diana, who seemed to stand undecided, 
he came up to me in the most friendly manner, and said, “Do 
not doubt my interest in what regards you, Mr. Osbaldistone. 
25 If I leave you just at this moment, it is only to act for your 
advantage. But you must use your influence with your cousin 
to return ; her presence cannot serve you, and must prejudice 
herself.” 

“I assure you, sir,” I replied, “you cannot be more con- 
30 vinced of this than I; I have urged Miss Vernon’s return 
as anxiously as she would permit me to do.” 

“I have thought on it,” said Miss Vernon after a pause, 
“and I will not go till I see you safe out of the hands of the 


ROB ROY 


65 


Philistines. 0 Cousin Rashleigh, I dare say, means well ; 
but he and I know each other well. Rashleigh, I will not 
go; — I know,” she added, in a more soothing tone, “my 
being here will give you more motive for speed and exertion.” 

“Stay then, rash, obstinate girl,” said Rashleigh; “you 5 
know but too well to whom you trust ; ” and hastening out 
of the hall, we heard his horse’s feet a minute afterward in 
rapid motion. 

“Thank Heaven he is gone!” said Diana. “And new 
let us seek out the Justice.” 10 

“Had we not better call a servant?” 

“Oh, by no means ; I know the way to his den — we must 
burst on him suddenly — follow me.” 

I did follow her accordingly as she tripped up a few gloomy 
steps, traversed a twilight passage, and entered a sort of 15 
ante-room, hung round with old maps, architectural eleva- 
tions, and genealogical trees. A pair of folding-doors opened 
from this into Mr. Inglewood’s sitting apartment, from which 
was heard the fag-end of an old ditty, chanted by a voice 
which had been in its day fit for a jolly bottle-song. 20 

“O, in Skipton-in-Craven 
Is never a haven, 

But many a day foul weather ; 

And he that would say 
A pretty girl nay, 

I wish for his cravat a tether.” 25 

“Heyday!” said Miss Vernon, “the genial Justice must 
have dined already — I did not think it had been so late.” 

It was even so. Mr. Inglewood’s appetite having been 
sharpened by his official investigations, he had antedated 30 
his meridian repast, having dined at twelve instead of one 
o’clock, then the general dining hour in England. The vari- 
ous occurrences of the morning occasioned our arriving some 

F 


66 


ROB ROY 


time after this hour, to the Justice the most important of the 
four-and-twenty, and he had not neglected the interval. 

“Stay you here,” said Diana. “I know the house, and I 
will call a servant; your sudden appearance might startle 
5 the old gentleman even to choking;” and she escaped from 
me, leaving me uncertain whether I ought to advance or 
retreat. It was impossible for me not to hear some part 
of what passed within the dinner apartment, and particu- 
larly several apologies for declining to sing, expressed in a 
io dejected croaking voice, the tones of which, I conceived, 
were not entirely new to me. 

“Not sing, sir ? by our Lady ! but you must — What ! you 
have cracked my silver-mounted cocoa-nut of sack, and tell 
me that you cannot sing ! — Sir, sack will make a cat sing, 
15 and speak too ; so up with a merry stave, or trundle yourself 
out of my doors ! — Do you think you are to take up all my 
valuable time with your declarations, and then tell me you 
cannot sing?” 

“Your worship is perfectly in rule,” said another voice, 
20 which, from its pert conceited accent, might be that of the 
clerk, “and the party must be conformable; he hath canet° 
written on his face in court hand.” 

“Up with it then,” said the Justice, “or by St. Christopher, 
you shall crack the cocoa-nut full of salt-and-water, according 
25 to the statute for such effect made and provided.” 

Thus exhorted and threatened, my quondam fellow-travel- 
ler, for I could no longer doubt that he was the recusant in 
question, uplifted, with a voice similar to that of a criminal 
singing his last psalm on the scaffold, a most doleful stave 
30 to the following effect : — 

“ Good people all, I pray give ear, 

A woeful story you shall hear, 

’Tis of a robber as stout as ever 


ROB ROY 


67 


Bade a true man stand and deliver. 

With his foodie doo fa loodle loo. 

“This knave, most worthy of a cord, 

Being armed with pistol and with sword, 

’Twixt Kensington and Brentford then s 

Did boldly stop six honest men. 

With his foodie doo, etc. 

“These honest men did at Brentford dine, 

Having drank each man his pint of wine, 

When this bold thief, with many curses, 

Did say, You dogs, your lives or purses, 10 

With his foodie doo,” etc. 

I question if the honest men, whose misfortune is commem- 
orated in this pathetic ditty, were more startled at the appear- 
ance of the bold thief than the songster was at mine; for, 15 
tired of waiting for some one to announce me, and finding 
my situation as a listener rather awkward, I presented myself 
to the company just as my friend Mr. Morris, for such, it 
seems, was his name, was uplifting the fifth stave of his 
doleful ballad. 20 

I broke the silence of surprise occasioned by my abrupt 
entrance. — “My name, Mr. Inglewood, is Francis Osbaldi- 
stone; I understand that some scoundrel has brought a 
complaint before you, charging me with being concerned in a 
loss which he says he has sustained.” 25 

“Sir,” said the Justice, somewhat peevishly, “these are 
matters I never enter upon after dinner ; — there is a time 
for everything, and a justice of peace must eat as well as 
other folks.” 

The goodly person of Mr. Inglewood, by the way, seemed 30 
by no means to have suffered by any fasts, whether in the 
service of the law or of religion. 

“I beg pardon for an ill-timed visit, sir; but as my reputa- 


68 


ROB ROY 


tion is concerned, and as the dinner appears to be con- 
cluded” — 

“It is not concluded, sir,” replied the magistrate; “man 
requires digestion as well as food, and I protest I cannot have 
5 benefit from my victuals unless I am allowed two hours of 
quiet leisure, intermixed with harmless mirth, and a moderate 
circulation of the bottle.” 

“If your honor will forgive me,” said Mr. Jobson, who 
had produced and arranged his writing implements in the 
io brief space that our conversation afforded; “as this is a 
case of felony, and the gentleman seems something impatient, 
the charge is contra pacem° domini regis” 

“D — n dominie regis!” said the impatient Justice — “I 
hope it’s no treason to say so; but it’s enough to make one 
15 mad to be worried in this way. Have I a moment of my 
life quiet for warrants, orders, directions, acts, bails, bonds, 
and recognizances — I pronounce to you, Mr. Jobson, that 
I shall send you and the justiceship to the devil one of these 
days.” 

20 “Your honor will consider the dignity of the office — one 
of the quorum and custos rotvlorum , 0 an office of which Sir 
Edward Coke° wisely saith, The whole Christian world hath 
not the like of it, so it be duly executed.” 

“Well,” said the Justice, partly reconciled by this eulogium 
25 on the dignity of his situation, and gulping down the rest 
of his dissatisfaction in a huge bumper of claret, “let us 
to this gear then, and get rid of it as fast as we can. — Here 
you, sir — you, Morris, you, knight of the sorrowful coun- 
tenance — is this Mr. Francis Osbaldistone the gentleman 
30 whom you charge with being art and part of felony ? ” 

“I, sir?” replied Morris, whose scattered wits had hardly 
yet- reassembled themselves; “I charge nothing — I say 
nothing against the gentleman.” 


ROB ROY 


69 


“Then we dismiss your complaint, sir, that’s all, and a 
good riddance — Push about the bottle — Mr. Osbaldistone, 
help yourself.” 

Jobson, however, was determined that Morris should not 
back out of the scrape so easily. “What do you mean, Mr. 5 
Morris ? — Here is your own declaration — the ink scarce 
dried — and you would retract it in this scandalous manner ! ” 
“How do I know,” whispered the other in a tremulous 
tone, “how many rogues are in the house to back him? I 
have read of such things in Johnson’s 0 Lives of the Highway - 10 
men. I protest the door opens” — 

And it did open, and Diana Vernon entered — “You 
keep fine order here, Justice — not a servant to be seen or 
heard of.” 

“Ah!” said the Justice, starting up with an alacrity which 15 
showed that he was not so engrossed by his devotions to 
Themis or Comus,° as to forget what was due to beauty — 
“Ah, ha! Die Vernon, the heath-bell of Cheviot, and the 
blossom of the Border, come to see how the old bachelor 
keeps house? Art welcome, girl, as flowers in May.” 20 

“A fine, open, hospitable house you do keep, Justice, that 
must be allowed — not a soul to answer a visitor.” 

“Ah, the knaves! they reckoned themselves secure of me 
for a couple of hours — But why did you not come earlier? 

— Your cousin Rashleigh dined here, and ran away like a 25 
poltroon after the first bottle was out — But you have not 
dined — w r e’ll have something nice and ladylike — sweet and 
pretty like yourself, tossed up in a trice.” 

“I may eat a crust in the ante-room before I set out,” 
answered Miss Vernon — “I have had a long ride this morn- 30 
ing; but I can’t stay long, Justice — I came with my cousin, 
Frank Osbaldistone, there, and I must show him the way 
back again to the Hall, or he’ll lose himself in the wolds.” 


70 


ROB ROY 


“Whew! sits the wind in that quarter?” inquired the 
Justice — 

“She showed him the way, she showed him the way, 

She showed him the way to woo. 

5 What! no luck for old fellows, then, my sweet bud of the 
wilderness ? ” 

“None whatever, Squire Inglewood; but if you will be 
a good kind Justice, and despatch young Frank’s business, 
and let us canter home again, I’ll bring my uncle to dine 
io with you next week, and we’ll expect merry doings.” 

“And you shall find them, my pearl of the Tyne — Zook- 
ers, lass, I never envy these young fellows their rides and 
scampers, unless when you come across me. But I must 
not keep you just now, I suppose? — I am quite satisfied 
1 5 with Mr. Francis Osbaldistone’s explanation — here has 
been some mistake, which can be cleared at greater leisure.” 

“Pardon me, sir,” said I ; “but I have not heard the nature 
of the accusation yet.” 

“Yes, sir,” said the clerk, who, at the appearance of Miss 
20 Vernon, had given up the matter in despair, but who picked 
up courage to press farther investigation on finding himself 
supported from a quarter whence assuredly he expected no 
backing — “Yes, sir, and Dalton 0 saith, That he who is 
apprehended as a felon shall not be discharged upon any man’s 
25 discretion, but shall be held either to bail or commitment, 
paying to the clerk of the peace the usual fees for recogni- 
zance or commitment.” 

The Justice, thus goaded on, gave me at length a few words 
of explanation. 

30 It seems the tricks which I had played to this man Morris 
had made a strong impression on his imagination; for I 
found they had been arrayed against me in his evidence. 


ROB ROY 


71 


with all the exaggerations which a timorous and heated 
imagination could suggest. It appeared also, that on the 
day he parted from me, he had been stopped on a solitary 
spot and eased of his beloved travelling-companion, the 
portmanteau, by two men, well mounted and armed, having 5 
their faces covered with vizards. 

One of them, he conceived, had much of my shape and air, 
and in a whispering conversation which took place betwixt 
the freebooters, he heard the other apply to him the name of 
Osbaldistone. The declaration farther set forth, that upon 10 
inquiring into the principles of the family so named, he, the 
said declarant, was informed that they were of the worst 
description, the family, in all its members, having been 
Papists and Jacobites, as he was given to understand by the 
dissenting clergyman at whose house he stopped after his 15 
rencontre, since the days of William the Conqueror. 

Upon all and each of these weighty reasons, he charged 
me with being accessory to the felony committed upon his 
person; he, the said declarant, then travelling in the special 
employment of Government, and having charge of certain 20 
important papers, and also a large sum in specie, to be paid 
over, according to his instructions, to certain persons of 
official trust and importance in Scotland. 

Having heard this extraordinary accusation, I replied to 
it, that the circumstances on which it was founded were such 25 
as could warrant no justice, or magistrate, in any attempt on 
my personal liberty. I admitted that I had practised a 
little upon the terrors of Mr. Morris, while we travelled 
together, but in such trifling particulars as could have excited 
apprehension in no one who was one whit less timorous and 30 
jealous than himself. But I added, that I had never seen 
him since we parted, and if that which he feared had really 
come upon him, I was in nowise accessory to an action so 


72 


ROB ROY 


unworthy of my character and station in life. That one 
of the robbers was called Osbaldistone, or that such a name 
was mentioned in the course of the conversation betwixt 
them, was a trifling circumstance, to which no weight was 
5 due. And concerning the disaffection alleged against me, 
I was willing to prove, to the satisfaction of the Justice, the 
clerk, and even the witness himself, that I was of the same 
persuasion as his friend the dissenting clergyman ; had been 
educated as a good subject in the principles of the Revolution 
io and as such now demanded the personal protection of the 
laws which had been assured by that great event. 

The Justice fidgeted, took snuff, and seemed considerably 
embarrassed, while Mr. Attorney Jobson, with all the volu- 
bility of his profession, ran over the statute of the 34 Edward 
15 III., by which justices of the peace are allowed to arrest 
all those whom they find by indictment or suspicion, and to 
put them into prison. The rogue even turned my own admis- 
sions against me, alleging, “that since I had confessedly, 
upon my own showing, assumed the bearing or deportment 
20 of a robber or malefactor, I had voluntarily subjected myself 
to the suspicions of which I complained, and brought myself 
within the compass of the act, having wilfully clothed my 
conduct with all the color and livery of guilt.” 

I combated both his arguments and his jargon with much 
25 indignation and scorn, and observed, “That I should, if 
necessary, produce the bail of my relations, which I conceived 
could not be refused, without subjecting the magistrate in 
a misdemeanor.” 

“Pardon me, my good sir — pardon me,” said the insati- 
3 o able clerk ; “this is a case in which neither bail nor mainprize 
can be received, the felon who is liable to be committed on 
heavy grounds of suspicion, not being replevisable under the 
statute of the 3 d of King Edward, 0 there being in that act 


ROB ROY 


73 


an express exception of such as be charged of commandment, 
or force, and aid of felony done;” and he hinted that his 
worship would do well to remember that such were no way 
replevisable by common writ, or without writ. 

At this period of the conversation a servant entered, and 5 
delivered a letter to Mr. Jobson. He had no sooner run it 
hastily over, than he exclaimed, with the air of one who 
wished to appear much vexed at the interruption, and felt 
the consequence attached to a man of multifarious avoca- 
tions — “Good God ! — why, at this rate, I shall have neither 10 
time to attend to the public concerns nor my own' — no 
rest — no quiet — I wish to Heaven another gentleman in our 
line would settle here ! ” 

“God forbid !” said the Justice in a tone of sotto-voce° dep- 
recation; “some of us have enough of one of the tribe.” 15 

“This is a matter of life and death, if your worship pleases.” 

“In God’s name ! no more justice business, I hope,” said 
the alarmed magistrate. 

“No — no,” replied Mr. Jobson, very consequentially; 
“old Gaffer Rutledge of Grime’s-hill is subpoena’d for the 20 
next world ; he has sent an express for Dr. Killdown to put 
in bail — another for me to arrange his worldly affairs.” 

“Away with you, then,” said Mr. Inglewood, hastily; 
“his may not be a replevisable case under the statute, you 
know, or Mr. Justice Death may not like the doctor for a 25 
main pernor, or bailsman.” 

“And yet,” said Jobson, lingering as he moved toward 
the door, “if my presence here be necessary — I could make 
out the warrant for committal in a moment, and the constable 
is below — And you have heard,” he said, lowering his voice, 30 
“Mr. Rashleigh’s opinion” — the rest was lost in a whisper. 

The Justice replied aloud, “I tell thee no, man, no — we’ll 
do nought till thou return, man ; ’tis but a four-mile ride — 


74 


ROB ROY 


Come, push the bottle, Mr. Morris — Don’t be cast down, 
JMr. Osbaldistone — And you, my rose of the wilderness — 
one cup of claret to refresh the bloom of your cheeks.” 

Diana started, as if from a reverie, in which she appeared 
5 to have been plunged while we held this discussion. “No, 
Justice — I should be afraid of transferring the bloom to 
a part of my face where it would show to little advantage; 
but I will pledge you in a cooler beverage;” and filling a 
glass with water, she drank it hastily, while her hurried 
i o manner belied her assumed gayety. 

But there was no moving the Justice to take the matter 
up in absence of his clerk, an incident which gave him appar- 
ently as much pleasure as a holiday to a schoolboy. “Come, 
Master Morris, you’re not the first man that’s been robbed, 
1 5 I trow — grieving ne’er brought back loss, man. And you, 
Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, are not the first bully-boy that has 
said stand to a true man. There was Jack Winterfield, 
in my young days, kept the best company in the land — at 
horse-races and cock-fights who but he — hand and glove 
20 was I with Jack. Push the bottle, Mr. Morris, it’s dry 
talking — Now, here is honest Mr. Morris, has been fright- 
ened, and so forth, let the poor fellow have back his portman- 
teau, and end the frolic at once.” 

Morris’s eyes brightened up at this suggestion, and he 
25 began to hesitate forth an assurance that he thirsted for no 
man’s blood, when I cut the proposed accommodation short, 
by resenting the Justice’s suggestion as an insult, that went 
directly to suppose me guilty of the very crime which I had 
come to his house with the express intention of disavowing. 
30 We were in this awkward predicament when a servant, open- 
ing the door, announced, “A strange gentleman to wait upon 
his honor;” and the party whom he thus described entered 
the room without farther ceremony. 


CHAPTER IX 


One of the thieves come back again ! I’ll stand close. 

He dares not wrong me now, so near the house, 

And call in vain ’tis, till I see him offer it. 

The Widow . 0 

“A stranger!” echoed the Justice — “not upon business, 

I trust, for I’ll be” 

‘His protestation was cut short by the answer of the man 
himself. “My business is of a nature somewhat onerous 
and particular,” said my acquaintance, Mr. Campbell — 5 
for it was he, the very Scotchman whom I had seen at Northal- 
lerton 0 — “and I must solicit your honor to give instant and 
heedful consideration to it. — I believe, Mr. Morris,” he 
added, fixing his eye on that person with a look of peculiar 
firmness and almost ferocity — “I believe ye ken brawly what 10 
I am — I believe ye cannot have forgotten what passed at 
our last meeting on the road?” Morris’s jaw dropped — 
his countenance became the color of tallow — his teeth 
chattered, and he gave visible signs of the utmost consterna- 
tion. “Take heart of grace, man,” said Campbell, “and 15 
dinna sit clattering your jaws there like a pair of castanets ! 

I think there can be nae difficulty in your telling Mr. Justice, 
that ye have seen me of yore, and ken me to be a cavalier of 
fortune, and a man of honor. Ye ken fu’ weel ye will be 
some time resident in my vicinity, when I may have the 20 
power, as I will possess the inclination, to do you as good a 
turn.” 

“Sir — sir — I believe you to be a man of honor, and, as 

75 


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ROB ROY 


you say, a man of fortune. Yes, Mr. Inglewood,” he added 
clearing his voice, “I really believe this gentleman to be so.” 

“And what are this gentleman’s commands with me?” 
said the Justice, somewhat peevishly. “One man introduces 
5 another, like the rhymes in the ‘house that Jack built,’ 
and I get company without either peace or conversation ! ” 

“Both shall be yours, sir,” answered Campbell, “in a 
brief period of time. I come to release your mind from a piece 
of troublesome duty, not to make increment to it.” 
io “Body o’ me! then you are welcome as ever Scot w^as to 
England, and that’s not saying much. But get on, man — 
let’s hear what you have got to say at once.” 

“I presume, this gentleman,” continued the North Britoh, 
“told you there was a person of the name of Campbell with 
15 him, when he had the mischance to lose his valise?” 

“He has not mentioned such a name, from beginning to 
end of the matter,” said the Justice. 

“Ah! I conceive — I conceive,” replied Mr. Campbell; 
“Mr. Morris was kindly af eared of committing a stranger 
20 into collision wi’ the judicial forms of the country ; but as I 
understand my evidence is necessary to the compurgation of 
one honest gentleman here, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, wha 
has been most unjustly suspected, I will dispense with the 
precaution. Ye will therefore” (he added, addressing Morris 
25 with the same determined look and accent) “please tell Mr. 
Justice Inglewood, whether we did not travel several miles 
together on the road, in consequence of your own anxious 
request and suggestion, reiterated ance and again, baith on 
the evening that we were at Northallerton, and there declined 
30 by me, but afterward accepted, when I overtook ye on the 
road near Cloberry Allers, and was prevailed on by you to 
resign my ain intentions of proceeding to Rothbury, and, for 
my misfortune, to accompany you on your proposed route.” 


ROB ROY 


77 


“It’s a melancholy truth,” answered Morris, holding down 
his head, as he gave this general assent to the long and lead- 
ing question which Campbell put to him, and seemed to 
acquiesce in the statement it contained with rueful docility. 

“And I presume you can also asseverate to his worship, 5 
that no man is better qualified than I am to bear testimony 
in this case, seeing that I was by you, and near you, con- 
stantly during the whole occurrence.” 

“No man better qualified, certainly,” said Morris, with a 
deep and embarrassed sigh. 10 

“And why the devil did you not assist him, then,” said 
the Justice, “since, by Mr. Morris’s account, there were 
but two robbers ; so you were two to two, and you are both 
stout likely men ? ” x ^ 

“Sir, if it please your worship,” said Campbell, “I have 15 
been all my life a man of peace and quietness, noways given 
to broils or batteries. Mr. Morris, who belongs, as I under- 
stand, or hath belonged, to his Majesty’s army, might have 
used his pleasure in resistance, he travelling, as I also under- 
stand, with a great charge of treasure ; but, for me, who 20 
had but my own small peculiar to defend, and who am, more- 
over, a man of a pacific occupation, I was unwilling to commit 
myself to hazard in the matter.” 

I looked at Campbell as he muttered these words, and 
never recollect to have seen a more singular contrast than 25 
that between the strong daring sternness expressed in his 
harsh features, and the air of composed meekness and sim- 
plicity which his language assumed. There was even a 
slight ironical smile lurking about the corners of his mouth, 
which seemed, involuntarily as it were, to intimate his dis- 30 
dain of the quiet and peaceful character which he thought 
proper to assume, and which led me to entertain strange 
suspicions that his concern in the violence done to Morris 


78 


ROB ROY 


had been something very different from that of a fellow- 
sufferer, or even of a mere spectator. 

Perhaps some suspicions crossed the Justice’s mind at 
the moment, for he exclaimed, as if by way of ejaculation, 
5 “Body o’ me ! but this is a strange story.” 

The North Briton seemed to guess at what was passing 
in his mind; for he went on, with a change of manner and 
tone, dismissing from his countenance some part of the 
hypocritical affectation of humility which had made him 
i o obnoxious to suspicion, and saying, with a more frank and 
unconstrained air, “To say the truth, I am just one o’ those 
canny folks wha care not to fight but when they hae gotten 
something to fight for, which did not chance to be my predic- 
ament when I fell in wi’ these loops. But that your worship 
1 5 may know that I am a person of good fame and character, 
please to cast your eye over that billet.” 

Mr. Inglewood took the paper from his hand, and read, half 
aloud, “These are to certify, that the bearer, Robert Campbell 

of of some place which I cannot pronounce,” interjected 

20 the Justice — “is a person of good lineage, and peaceable 
demeanor, travelling toward England on his own proper 
affairs, etc., etc., etc. Given under our hand, at our Castle 
of Inver — Invera — rara — Argyle .” 0 

“A slight testimonial, sir, which I thought fit to impetrate 
25 from that worthy nobleman” (here he raised his hand to his 
head, as if to touch his hat), “MacCallum More.” 0 

“Mac Callum who, sir?” said the Justice. 

“Whom the Southern call the Duke of Argyle.” 

“I know the Duke of Argyle very well to be a nobleman of 
30 great worth and distinction, and a true lover of his country. 
I was one of those that stood by him in 1714, when he unhorsed 
the Duke of Marlborough out of his command. I wish we 
had more noblemen like him. He was an honest Tory in 


ROB ROY 


79 


those days, and hand and glove with Ormod. And he has ac- 
ceded to the present Government, as I have done myself, for 
the peace and quiet of his country; for I cannot presume 
that great man to have been actuated, as violent folks pre- 
tend, with the fear of losing his place and regiment. His 5 
testimonial, as you call it, Mr„ Campbell, is perfectly satis- 
factory ; and now, what have you got to say to this matter 
of the robbery?” 

“Briefly this, if it please your worship, — that Mr. Morris 
might as well charge it against the babe yet to be born, or 10 
against myself even, as against this young gentleman, Mr. 
Osbaldistone ; for I am not only free to depone that the person 
whom he took for him was a shorter man, and a thicker man, 
but also, for I chanced to obtain a glisk of his visage, as his 
fause-face slipped aside, that he was a man of other features 15 
and complexion than those of this young gentleman, Mr. 
Osbaldistone. And I believe,” he added, turning round with 
a natural, yet somewhat sterner air, to Mr. Morris, “that the 
gentleman will allow I had better opportunity to take cogni- 
zance wha were present on that occasion thjpi he, being, I 20 
believe, much the cooler o’ the twa.” 

“I agree to it, sir — I agree to it perfectly,” said Morris, 
shrinking back as Campbell moved his chair toward him to 
fortify his appeal — “And I incline, sir,” he added, addressing 
Mr. Inglewood, “to retract my information as to Mr. Osbal- 25 
distone ; and I request, sir, you will permit him, sir, to go about 
his business, and me to go about mine also ; your worship may 
have business to settle with Mr: Campbell, and I am rather in 
haste to be gone.” 

“Then, there go the declarations,” said the Justice, throwing 30 
them into the fire — “And now you are at perfect liberty, 
Mr. Osbaldistone. And you, Mr. Morris, are set quite at 
your ease.” 


80 


ROB ROY 


“Ay,” said Campbell, eyeing Morris as he assented with a 
rueful grin to the Justice’s observations, “much like the ease 
of a tod under a pair of harrows — But fear nothing, Mr. 
Morris ; you and I maun leave the house thegither. I will see 
5 you safe — I hope you will not doubt my honor, when I say 
sae — to the next highway, and then we part company ; and 
if we do not meet as friends in Scotland, it will be your ain 
fault.” 

With such a lingering look of terror as the condemned 
i o criminal throws, when he is informed that the cart awaits 
him, Morris arose ; but when on his legs, appeared to hesitate. 
“I tell thee, man, fear nothing,” reiterated Campbell ; “I will 
keep my word with you — Why, thou sheep’s heart, how do 
ye ken but we may can pick up some speerings of your valise, 

1 5 if ye will be amendable to gude counsel ? — Our horses are 
ready. Bid the Justice fareweel, man, and show your South- 
ern breeding.” 

Morris, thus exhorted and encouraged, took his leave, under 
the escort of Mr. Campbell; but, apparently, new scruples 
20 and terrors h^l struck him before they left the house, for I 
heard Campbell reiterating assurances of safety and protection 
as they left the ante-room — “By the soul of my body, man, 
thou’rt as safe as in thy father’s kailyard — Zounds ! that a 
chield wi’ sic a black beard should hae nae mair heart than 
25 a hen-partridge ! — Come on wi’ ye, like a frank fallow, anes 
and for aye.” 

The voices died away, and the subsequent trampling of 
their horses announced to us that they had left the mansion 
of Justice Inglewood. 

30 The joy which that worthy magistrate received at this easy 
conclusion of a matter which threatened him with some trouble 
in his judicial capacity, was somewhat damped by reflection 
on what his clerk’s views of the transaction might be at his 


ROB ROY 


81 


return. “Now, I shall have Jobson on my shoulders about 
these papers — I doubt I should not have destroyed them, 
after all — But hang it ! it is only paying his fees, and 
that will make all smooth — And now, Miss Die Vernon, 
though I have liberated all the others, I intend to sign a writ 5 
for committing you to the custody of Mother Blakes, my old 
housekeeper, for the evening, and we will send for my neighbor 
Mrs. Musgrave, and the Miss Dawkins, and your cousins, and 
have old Cobs the fiddler, and be as merry as the maids ; and 
Frank Osbaldistone and I will have a carouse that will make io 
us fit company for you in half-an-hour.” 

“Thanks, most worshipful,” returned Miss Vernon; “but, 
as matters stand, we must return instantly to Osbaldistone 
Hall, where they do not know what has become of us, and 
relieve my uncle of his anxiety on my cousin’s account, which 1 5 
is just the same as if one of his own sons were concerned.” 

“I believe it truly,” said the Justice; “for when his eldest 
son, Archie, came to a bad end, in that unlucky affair of Sir 
John Fenwick’s, old Hildebrand used to hollo out his name as 
readily as any of the remaining six, and then complain that 20 
he could not recollect which of his sons had been hanged. So, 
pray hasten home, and relieve his paternal solicitude, since 
go you must. But hark thee hither, heath-blossom,” he said, 
pulling her toward him by the hand, and in a good-humored 
tone of admonition, “another time let the law take its course, 25 
without putting your pretty finger into her old musty pie, all 
full of fragments of law gibberish — French and dog-Latin° — 
And, Die, my beauty, let young fellows show each other the 
way through the moors, in case you should lose your own road, 
while you are pointing out theirs, my pretty Will o’ the Wisp.” 30 

With this admonition, he saluted and dismissed Miss Ver- 
non, and took an equally kind farewell of me. 

“Thou seems to be a good tight lad, Mr. Frank, and 

G 


82 


ROB ROY 


I remember thy father too — he was my playfellow at school. 
Hark thee, lad, — ride early at night, and don’t swagger with 
chance passengers on the king’s highway. What, man ! all 
the king’s liege subjects are not bound to understand joking, 
S and it’s ill cracking jests on matters of felony. And here’s 
poor Die Vernon too — in a manner alone and deserted on 
the face of this wide earth, and left to ride, and run, and 
scamper, at her own silly pleasure. Thou must be careful of 
Die, or, egad, I will turn a young fellow again on purpose, and 

1 o fight thee myself, although I must own it would be a great 

deal of trouble. And now, get ye both gone, and leave me to 
my pipe of tobacco, and my meditations; for what says the 
song — . 

“ The Indian leaf 0 doth briefly burn ; 
is So doth man’s strength to weakness turn ; — 

The fire of youth extinguished quite. 

Comes age, like embers, dry and white. 

Think of this as you take tobacco.” 

I was much pleased with the gleams of sense and feeling 
20 which escaped from the Justice through the vapors of sloth 
and self-indulgence, assured him of my respect to his admoni- 
tions, and took a friendly farewell of the honest magistrate 
and his hospitable mansion. 

We found a repast prepared for us in the ante-room, which 

2 5 we partook of slightly, and rejoined the same servant of Sir 

Hildebrand who had taken our horses at our entrance, and who 
had been directed, as he informed Miss Vernon, by Mr. Rash- 
leigh, to wait and attend upon us home. We rode a little way 
in silence, for, to say truth, my mind was too much be- 
30 wildered with the events of the morning, to permit me to be 
the first to break it. At length Miss Vernon exclaimed, as if 
giving vent to her own reflections, ‘‘Well, Rashleigh is a man 
to be feared and wondered at, and all but loved; he does 


ROB ROY 


83 


whatever he pleases, and makes all others his puppets — has 
a player ready to perform every part which he imagines, and 
an invention and readiness which supply expedients for every 
emergency .” 

“You think, then,” said I, answering rather to her meaning, 5 
than to the express words she made use of, “that this Mr. 
Campbell, whose appearance was so opportune, and who 
trussed up and carried off my accuser as a falcon trusses a 
partridge, was an agent of Mr. Rashleigh Osbaldistone’s ? ” 

“I do guess as much,” replied Diana ; “and shrewdly suspect^ io 
moreover, that he would hardly have appeared so very much 
in the nick of time, if I had not happened to meet Rashleigh 
in the hall at the Justice’s.” 

“In that case, my thanks are chiefly due to you, my fair 
preserver.” 15 

“To be sure they are,” returned Diana; “and pray, suppose 
them paid, and accepted with a gracious smile, for I do not 
care to be troubled with hearing them in good earnest, and 
am much more* likely to yawn than to behave becoming. In 
short, Mr. Frank, there are three things for which I am much 20 
to be pitied, if any one thought it worth while to waste any 
compassion upon me.” 

“And what are these three things, Miss Vernon, may I ask ? ” 

“Will you promise me your deepest sympathy, if I tell you ?” 

“Certainly; — can you doubt it?” I replied, closing my 25 
horse nearer to hers as I spoke, with an expression of interest 
which I did not attempt to disguise. 

“Well, it is very seducing to be pitied, after all ; so here are 
my three grievances : In the first place, I am a girl, and not 
a young fellow, and would be shut up in a mad-house, if I did 30 
half the things that I have a mind to ; — and that, if I had your 
happy prerogative of acting as you list, would make all the 
world mad with imitating and applauding me.” 


84 


ROB ROY 


“I can’t quite afford you the sympathy you expect upon 
this score,” I replied; “the misfortune is so general, that it 

belongs to one half of the species; and the other half” 

“Are so much better cared for, that they are jealous of their 
S prerogatives,” interrupted Miss Vernon — “I forgot you were 
a party interested. Nay,” she said, as I was going to speak, 
“that soft smile is intended to be the preface of a very pretty 
compliment respecting the peculiar advantages which Die 
Vernon’s friends and kinsmen enjoy, by her beiqg born one of 
io their Helots ; but spare me the utterance, my good friend, and 
let us try whether we shall agree better on the second count 
of my indictment against fortune, as that quill-driving puppy 
would call it. I belong to an oppressed sect and antiquated 
religion, and, instead of getting credit for my devotion, as is 
15 due to all good girls beside, my kind friend, Justice Inglewood, 
may send me to the house of correction, merely for worship- 
ping God in the way of my ancestors, and say, as old Pembroke 
did to the Abbess of Wilton, 0 when he usurped her convent 
and establishment, ‘Go spin, you jade, — Go spin.’ ” 

20 “This is not a cureless evil,” said I gravely. “Consult 
some of our learned divines, or consult your own excellent 
understanding, Miss Vernon ; and surely the particulars in 
which our religious creed differs from that in which you have 
been educated” 

25 “Hush!” said Diana, placing her forefinger on her mouth, 
— “Hush ! no more of that. Forsake the faith of my gallant 
fathers ! I would as soon, were I a man, forsake their banner 
when the tide of battle pressed hardest against it, and turn, 
like a hireling recreant, to join the victorious enemy.” 

30 “I honor your spirit, Miss Vernon; and as to the incon- 
veniences to which it exposes you, I can only say, that wounds 
sustained for the sake of conscience carry their own balsam 
with the blow.” 


ROB ROY 


85 


“Ay ; but they are fretful and irritating, for all that. But 
I see, hard of heart as you are, my chance of beating hemp, 
or drawing out flax into marvellous coarse thread, affects you 
as little as my condemnation to coif and pinners, instead of 
beaver and cockade ; so I will spare myself the fruitless pains 5 
of telling my third cause of vexation/’ 

“Nay, my dear Miss Vernon, do not withdraw your con- 
fidence, and I will promise you, that the threefold sympathy 
due to your very unusual causes of distress shall be all duly 
and truly paid to account of the third, providing you assure 10 
me, that it is one which you neither share with all woman-kind, 
nor even with every Catholic in England, who, God bless you, 
are still a sect more numerous than we Protestants, in our 
zeal for church and state, would desire them to be.” 

“It is indeed,” said Diana, with a manner greatly altered, 15 
and more serious than I had yet seen her assume, “a misfor- 
tune that well merits compassion. I am by nature, as you 
may easily observe, of a frank and unreserved disposition — a 
plain true-hearted girl, who would willingly act openly and 
honestly by the whole world, and yet fate has involved me 20 
in such a series of nets and toils and entanglements, that I dare 
hardly speak a word for fear of consequences — not to myself, 
but to others.” 

“That is indeed a misfortune, Miss Vernon, which I do most 
sincerely compassionate, but which I should hardly have 25 
anticipated.” 

“O, Mr. Osbaldistone, if you but knew — if any one knew, 
what difficulty I sometimes find in hiding an aching heart with 
a smooth brow, you would indeed pity me. I do wrong, 
perhaps, in speaking to you even thus far on my own situation ; 30 
but you are a young man of sense and penetration — you can- 
not but long to ask me a hundred questions on the events of 
this day — on the share which Rashleigh has in your deliver- 


86 


ROB ROY 


ance from this petty scrape — upon many other points which 
cannot but excite your attention ; and I cannot bring myself 
to answer with the necessary falsehood and finesse — I should 
do it awkwardly, and lose your good opinion, if I have any 
S share of it, as well as my own. It is best to say at once, Ask 
me no questions, — I have it not in my power to reply to 
them.” 

Miss Vernon spoke these words with a tone of feeling which 
could not but make a corresponding impression upon me. I 

1 o assured her she had neither to fear my urging her with im- 

pertinent questions, nor my misconstruing her declining to 
answer those which might in themselves be reasonable, or at 
least natural. 

“I was too much obliged,” I said, “by the interest she had 
t 5 taken in my affairs, to misuse the opportunity her goodness 
had afforded me of prying into hers 1 — I only trusted and 
entreated, that if my services could at any time be useful, 
she would command them without doubt or hesitation.” 

“Thank you — thank you,” she replied ; “your voice does 
20 not ring the cuckoo chime of compliment, but speaks like that 
of one who knows to what he pledges himself. If — but it is 
impossible — but yet, if an opportunity should occur, I will 
ask you if you remember this promise; and I assure you, I 
shall not be angry if I find you have forgotten it, for it is 

2 5 enough that you are sincere in your intentions just now — 

much may occur to alter them ere I call upon you, should 
that moment ever come, to assist Die Vernon, as if you were 
Die Vernon’s brother.” 

“And if I were Die Vernon’s brother,” said I, “there could 
30 not be less chance that I should refuse my assistance — And 
now I am afraid I must not ask whether Rashleigh was will- 
ingly accessory to my deliverance?” 

“Not of me ; but you may ask it of himself, and depend upon 


ROB ROY 


87 


it, he will say yes; for rather than any good action should walk 
through the world like an unappropriated adjective in an 
ill-arranged sentence, he is always willing to stand noun 
substantive to it himself.” 

“And I must not ask whether this Campbell be himself the .5 
party who eased Mr. Morris of his portmanteau, — or whether 
the letter, which our friend the attorney received, was not a 
finesse to withdraw him from the scene of action, lest he should 
have marred the happy event of my deliverance? And I 
must not ask” 10 

“You must ask nothing of me,” said Miss Vernon; “so it 
is quite vain to go on putting cases. You are to think just 
as well of me as if I had answered all these queries, and twenty 
others beside, as glibly as Rashleigh could have done; and 
observe, whenever I touch my chin just so, it is a sign that 15 
I cannot speak upon the topic which happens to occupy your 
attention. I must settle signals of correspondence with you, 
because you are to be my confidant and my counsellor, only 
you are to know nothing whatever of my affairs.” 

“Nothing can be more reasonable,” I replied, laughing; 20 
“and the extent of your confidence will, you may rely upon 
it, only be equalled by the sagacity of my counsels.” 

This sort of conversation brought us, in the highest good- 
humor with each other, to Osbaldistone Hall, where we found 
the family far advanced in the revels of the evening. 25 

“Get some dinner for Mr. Osbaldistone and me in the 
library,” said Miss Vernon to a servant. — “I must have 
some compassion upon you,” she added, turning to me, “and 
provide against your starving in this mansion of brutal 
abundance ; otherwise I am not sure that I should show 30 
you my private haunts. This same library is my den — 
the only corner of the Hall-house where I am safe from the 
Ourang-Outangs, my cousins. They never venture there, 


88 


ROB ROY ^ 


I suppose for fear the folios should fall down and crack their 
skulls; for they will never affect their heads in any other way 
— So follow me.” 

And I followed through hall and bower, vaulted passage 
5 and winding stair, until we reached the room where she had 
ordered our refreshments. 


CHAPTER X 


In the wide pile, by others heeded not, 

Hers was one sacred solitary spot, 

Whose gloomy aisles and bending shelves contain 
For moral hunger food, and cures for moral pain. 

Anonymous. 

The library at Osbaldistone Hall was a gloomy room, 
whose antique oaken shelves bent beneath the weight of the 
ponderous folios so dear to the seventeenth century, from 
which, under favor be it spoken, we have distilled matter for 
our quartos and octavos, and which, once more subjected to 5 
the alembic, may, should our sons be yet more frivolous than 
ourselves, be still farther reduced into duodecimos and pam- 
phlets. The collection was chiefly of the classics, as well 
foreign as ancient history, and, above all, divinity. It was 
in wretched order. The priests, who in succession had acted 10 
as chaplains at the Hall, were, for many years, the only persons 
who entered its precincts, until Rashleigh’s thirst for reading 
had led him to disturb the venerable spiders, who had muffled 
the fronts of the presses with their tapestry. His destination 
for the church rendered his conduct less absurd in his father’s 15 
eyes, than if any of his other descendants had betrayed so 
strange a propensity, and Sir Hildebrand acquiesced in the 
library receiving some repairs, so as to fit it for a sitting-room. 
Still an air of dilapidation, as obvious as it was uncomfortable, 
pervaded the large apartment, and announced the neglect 20 
from which the knowledge which its walls contained had not 
been able to exempt it. The tattered tapestry, the worm- 

89 


90 


ROB ROY 


eaten shelves, the huge and clumsy, yet tottering, tables, 
desks, and chairs, the rusty grate, seldom gladdened by 
either sea-coal or faggots, intimated the contempt of the lords 
of Osbaldistone Hall for learning, and for the volumes which 
5 record its treasures. 

“You think this place somewhat disconsolate, I suppose?” 
said Diana, as I glanced my eye round the forlorn apartment ; 
“but to me it seems like a little paradise, for I call it my own, 
and fear no intrusion. Rashleigh was joint proprietor with 
io me, while we were friends.” 

“And are you no longer so?” was my natural question. 

Her fore-finger immediately touched her dimpled chin, 
with an arch look of prohibition. 

“We are still allies ,” she continued, “bound, like other 
15 confederate powers, by circumstances of mutual interest; 
but I am afraid, as will happen in other cases, the treaty of 
alliance has survived the amicable dispositions in which it 
had its origin. At any rate, we live less together ; and when 
he comes through that door there, I vanish through this door 
20 here ; and so, having made the discovery that we two were 
one too many for this apartment, as large as it seems, Rash- 
leigh, whose occasions frequently call him elsewhere, has 
generously made a cession of his rights in my favor ; so that 
I now endeavor to prosecute alone the studies in \yhich he used 
25 formerly to be my guide.” 

“And what are those studies, if I may presume to ask?” 

“Indeed you may, without the least fear of seeing my 
forefinger raised to the chin. Science and history are my 
principal favorites ; but I also study poetry and the classics.” 
30 “And the classics? Do you read them in the original? ” 

“Unquestionably. Rashleigh, who is no contemptible 
scholar, taught me Greek and Latin, as well as most of the 
languages of modern Europe. I assure you there has been 


ROB ROY 


91 


some pains taken in my education, although I can neither sew 
a tucker, nor work cross-stitch, nor make a pudding, nor — as 
the vicar’s fat wife, with as much truth as elegance, good-will, 
and politeness, was pleased to say in my behalf — do any 
other useful thing in the varsal world.” 5 

“And was this selection of studies Rashleigh’s choice, or 
your own, Miss Vernon?” I asked. 

“Um!” said she, as if hesitating to answer my question, — 
“It’s not worth while lifting my finger about, after all. Why, 
partly his and partly mine. As I learned out of doors to ride io 
a horse, and bridle and saddle him in case of necessity, and to 
clear a five-barred gate, and fire a gun without winking, and 
all other of those masculine accomplishments that my brute 
cousins run mad after, I wanted, like my rational cousin, to 
read Greek and Latin within doors, and make my complete 15 
approach to the tree of knowledge, which you men-scholars 
would engross to yourselves, in revenge, I suppose, for our 
common mother’s share in the great original transgression.” 

“And Rashleigh indulged your propensity to learning?” 

“Why, he wished to have me for his scholar, and he could 20 
but teach me that which he knew himself — he was not likely 
to instruct me in the mysteries of washing lace-ruffles, or 
hemming cambric handkerchiefs, I suppose.” 

“I admit the temptation of getting such a scholar, and have 
no doubt that it made a weighty consideration on the tutor’s 25 
part.” 

“Oh, if you begin to investigate Rashleigh’s motives, my 
finger touches my chin once more. I can only be frank where 
my own are inquired into. But to resume — he has resigned 
the library in my favor, and never enters without leave had 30 
and obtained ; and so I have taken the liberty to make it the 
place of deposit for some of my own goods and chattels, as you 
may see by looking round you.” 


92 


ROB ROY 


“I beg pardon, Miss Vernon, but I really see nothing around 
these walls which I can distinguish as likely to claim you as 
mistress.” 

“That is, I suppose, because you neither see a shepherd 
5 or shepherdess wrought in worsted, and handsomely framed 
in black ebony, or a stuffed parrot — or a breeding-cage, 
full of canary birds, — or a housewife-case, broidered with 
tarnished silver, — or a toilet-table with a nest of japanned 
boxes, with as many angles as Christmas minced-pies, 
io — or a broken-backed spinet, or a lute with three strings, 
or rock-work, or shell-work, or needle-work, or work of any 
kind, — or a lap-dog with a litter of blind puppies — None 
of these treasures do I possess,” she continued, after a pause, 
in order to recover the breath she had lost in enumerating 
i s them — “But there stands the sword of my ancestor Sir 
Richard Vernon, slain at Shrewsbury, 0 and sorely slandered 
by a sad fellow called Will Shakspeare, whose Lancastrian 0 
partialities, and a certain knack at embodying them, has 
turned history upside down, or rather inside out ; — and by 
20 that redoubted weapon hangs the mail of the still older Ver- 
non, squire to the Black Prince, 0 whose fate is the reverse of 
his descendant’s, since he is more indebted to the bard who 
took the trouble to celebrate him, for good-will than for 
talents, — 

25 Amiddes the route you may discern one 

Brave knight, with pipes on shield, ycleped Vernon ; 

Like a borne fiend along the plain he thundered, 

Prest to be carving throtes, while others plundered. 

Then there is a model of a new martingale, 0 which I invented 
30 myself — a great improvement on the Duke of Newcastle’s; 0 
and there are the hood and bells of my falcon Cheviot, who 
spitted himself on a heron’s bill at Horsely-moss — poor 
Cheviot, there is not a bird on the perches below, but are 


ROB ROY 


93 


kites and riflers compared to him ; and there is my own light* 
fowling-piece, with an improved firelock; with twenty other 
treasures, each more valuable than another — And there, 
that speaks for itself.” 

She pointed to the carved oak frame of a full-length portrait 5 
by Vandyke, 0 on which were inscribed, in Gothic 0 letters, 
the words Vernon semper viret.° I looked at her for explana- 
tion. “Do you not know,” said she, with some surprise, 
“our motto — the Vernon motto, where, 

Like the solemn vice iniquity. 10 

We moralize two meanings in one word? 

And do you not know our cognizance, the pipes?” pointing 
to the armorial bearings sculptured on the oaken scrutcheon, 
around which the legend was displayed. 

“Pipes! — they look more like penny- whistles — But, 15 
pray, do not be angry with my ignorance,” I continued, 
observing the color mount to her cheeks, “I can mean no 
affront to your armorial bearings, for I do not even know my 
own.” 

“You an Osbaldistone, and confess so much!” she ex- 20 
claimed. “Why, Percie, Thornie, John, Dickon, — Wilfred 
himself, might be your instructor. Even ignorance itself is 
a plummet over you.” 

“With shame I confess it, my dear Miss Vernon, the 
mysteries couched under the grim hieroglyphics of heraldry 25 
are to me as unintelligible as those of the pyramids of Egypt.” 

“What ! is it possible? — Why, even my uncle reads G wil- 
ly m° sometimes of a winter night — Not know the figures of 
heraldry! — of what could your father be thinking?” 

“Of the figures of arithmetic,” I answered; “the most 30 
^insignificant unit of which he holds more highly than all the 
blazonry of chivalry. But, though I am ignorant to this 


94 


ROB ROY 


inexpressible degree, I have knowledge and taste enough to 
admire that splendid picture, in which I think I can discover 
a family likeness to you. What ease and dignity in the at- 
titude ! — what richness of coloring — what breadth and 
5 depth of shade!” 

“Is it really a fine painting ? ” she asked. 

“I have seen many works of the renowned artist,” I replied, 
“but never beheld one more to my liking.” 

“Well, I know as little of pictures as you do of heraldry,” 
i o replied Miss Vernon; “yet I have the advantage of you, 
because I have always admired the painting without under- 
standing its value.” 

“While I have neglected pipes and tabors, and all the whim- 
sical combinations of chivalry, still I am informed that they 
15 floated in the fields of ancient fame. But you will allow their 
exterior appearance is not so peculiarly interesting to the 
uninformed spectator as that of a fine painting. — Who is the 
person here represented?” 

“My grandfather. He shared the misfortunes of Charles 
20 1 .,° and, I am sorry to add, the excesses of his son. Our 
patrimonial estate was greatly impaired by his prodigality, 
and was altogether lost by his successor, my unfortunate 
father. But peace be with them who have got it ! — it was 
lost in the cause of loyalty.” 

25 “Your father, I presume, suffered in the political dissensions 
of the period?” 

“He did indeed; — he lost his all. And hence is his child 
a dependent orphan — eating the bread of others — subjected 
to their caprices, and compelled to study their inclinations; 
30 yet prouder of having had such a father, than if, playing a 
more prudent but less upright part, he had left me possessor 
of all the rich and fair baronies which his family once pos- 
sessed.” 


ROB ROY 95 

As she thus spoke, the entrance of the servants with dinner 
cut off all conversation but that of a general nature. 

When our hasty meal was concluded, and the wine 
placed on the table, the domestic informed us, “that Mr. 
Rashleigh had desired to be told when our dinner was 5 
removed/’ 

“ Tell him,” said Miss Vernon, “ we shall be happy to see 
him if he will step this way — place another wine-glass and 
chair, and leave the room. — You must retire with him when 
he goes away,” she continued, addressing herself to me; 10 
“ even my liberality cannot spare a gentleman above eight 
hours out of the twenty-four; and I think we have been to- 
gether for at least that length of time.” 

“ The old scythe-man 0 has moved so rapidly,” I answered, 

“ that I could not count his strides.” 15 

“Hush!” said Miss Vernon, “here comes Rashleigh;” and 
she drew off her chair, to which I had approached mine rather 
closely, so as to place a greater distance between us. 

A modest tap at the door, — a gentle manner of opening 
when invited to enter, — a studied softness and humility of 20 
step and deportment, announced that the education of Rash- 
leigh Osbaldistone at the College of St. Omers° accorded well 
with the ideas I entertained of the manners of an accomplished 
Jesuit. I need not add, that, as a sound Protestant, these 
ideas were not the most favorable. “Why should you use 25 
the ceremony of knocking,” said Miss Vernon, “when you 
knew that I was not alone?” 

This was spoken with a burst of impatience, as if she had 
felt that Rashleigh’s air of caution and reserve covered some 
insinuation of impertinent suspicion. “You have taught me 30 
the form of knocking at this door so perfectly, my fair cousin,” 
answered Rashleigh, without change of voice or manner, 
“that habit has become a second nature.” 


96 


ROB ROY 


“I prize sincerety more than courtesy, sir, and you know 
I do,” was Miss Vernon’s reply. 

“Courtesy is a gallant gay, a courtier by name and by 
profession,” replied Rashleigh, “and therefore most fit for 
5 a lady’s bower.” 

“But Sincerity is the true knight,” retorted Miss Vernon, 
“and therefore much more welcome, cousin. But to end a 
debate not over amusing to your stranger kinsman, sit down, 
Rashleigh, and give Mr. Francis Osbaldistone your counte- 
io nance to his glass of wine. I have done the honors of the 
dinner, for the credit of Osbaldistone Hall.” 

Rashleigh sat down, and filled his glass, glancing his eye 
from Diana to me, with an embarrassment which his utmost 
efforts could not entirely disguise. I thought he appeared 
1 5 to be uncertain concerning the extent of confidence she might 
have reposed in me, and hastened to lead the conversation 
into a channel which should sweep away his suspicion that 
Diana might have betrayed any secrets which rested between 
them. “Miss Vernon,” I said, “Mr. Rashleigh, has recom- 
20 mended me to return my thanks to you for my speedy disen- 
gagement from the ridiculous accusation of Morris; and, 
unjustly fearing my gratitude might not be warm enough to 
remind me of this duty, she has put my curiosity on its side, 
by referring me to you for an account, or rather explanation, 
25 of the events of the day.” 

“Indeed?” answered Rashleigh; “I should have thought” 
(looking keenly at Miss Vernon) “that the lady herself might 
have stood interpreter ; ” and his eye, reverting from her face, 
sought mine, as if to search, from the expression of my fea- 
30 tures, whether Diana’s communication had been as narrowly 
limited as my words had intimated. Miss Vernon retorted 
his inquisitorial glance with one of decided scorn; while I, 
uncertain whether to deprecate or resent his obvious sus- 


ROB ROY 


97 


picion, replied, “if it is your pleasure, Mr. Rashleigh, as it 
has been Miss Vernon’s to leave me in ignorance, I must 
necessarily submit ; but, pray, do not withhold your infor- 
mation from me on the ground of imagining that I have already 
obtained any on the subject. For I tell you, as a man of 5 
honor, I am as ignorant as that picture of anything relating 
to the events I have witnessed to-day, excepting that I under- 
stand from Miss Vernon, that you have been kindly active 
in my favor.” 

“Miss Vernon has overrated my humble efforts,” said Rash- 10 
leigh, “though I claim full credit for my zeal. The truth is, 
that as I galloped back to get some one of our family to join 
me in becoming your bail, which was the most obvious, or, 
indeed, I may say, the only way of serving you which occurred 
to my stupidity, I met the man Cawmil — Colville — Camp- 15 
bell, or whatsoever they call him. I had understood from 
Morris that he was present when the robbery took place, and 
had the good fortune to prevail on him (with some difficulty, 

I confess) to tender his evidence in your exculpation — which 
I presume was the means of your being released from an 20 
unpleasant situation.” 

“Indeed? — I am much your debtor for procuring such a 
seasonable evidence in my behalf. But I cannot see why 
(having been, as he said, a fellow-sufferer with Morris) it 
should have required much trouble to persuade him to step 25 
forth and bear evidence, whether to convict the actual robber, 
or free an innocent person.” 

“You do not know the genius of that man’s country, sir,” 
answered Rashleigh; — “discretion, prudence, and foresight, 
are their leading qualities ; these are only modified by a 30 
narrow-spirited, but yet ardent patriotism, which forms as 
it were the outmost of the concentric bulwarks with which 
a Scotchman fortifies himself against all the attacks of a 

H 


98 


ROB ROY 


generous philanthropical principle. Surmount this mound, 
you find an inner and still dearer barrier — the love of his 
province, his village, or, most probably his clan; storm this 
second obstacle, you have a third — his attachment to his 
5 own family — his father, mother, sons, daughters, uncles, 
aunts, and cousins, to the ninth generation. It is within 
these limits that a Scotchman’s social affection expands itself, 
never reaching those which are outermost, till all means of 
discharging itself in the interior circles have been exhausted, 
io It is within these circles that his heart throbs, each pulsation 
being fainter and fainter, till, beyond the widest boundary, 
it is almost unfelt. And what is worst of all, could you sur- 
mount all these concentric outworks, you have an inner 
citadel, deeper, higher, and more efficient than them all — a 
is Scotchman’s love for himself.” 

“All this is extremely eloquent and metaphorical, Rash- 
leigh,” said Miss Vernon, who listened with unrepressed 
impatience; “there are only two objections to it: first, it is 
not true ; secondly, if true, it is nothing to the purpose.” 

20 “It is true, my fairest Diana,” returned Rashleigh; “and 
moreover, it is most instantly to the purpose. It is true, 
because you cannot deny that I know the country and people 
intimately, and the character is drawn from deep and accurate 
consideration ; — and it is to the purpose, because it answers 
25 Mr. Francis Osbaldistone’s question, and shows why this 
same wary Scotchman, considering our kinsman .to be neither 
his countryman, nor a Campbell, nor his cousin in any of the 
inextricable combinations by which they extend their pedigree ; 
and, above all, seeing no prospect of personal advantage, but, 
30 on the contrary, much hazard of loss of time and delay of 
business” 

“With other inconveniences, perhaps, of a nature yet more 
formidable,” interrupted Miss Vernon. 


ROB ROY 


99 


“Of which, doubtless, there might be many,” said Rashleigh, 
continuing in the same tone — “In short, my theory shows 
why this man, hoping for no advantage, and afraid of some 
inconvenience, might require a degree of persuasion ere he 
could be prevailed on to give his testimony in favor of Mr. 5 
Osbaldistone.” 

“It seems surprising to me,” I observed, “that during the 
glance I cast over the declaration, or whatever it is termed, 
of Mr. Morris, he should never have mentioned that Campbell 
was in his company when he met the marauders.” 10 

“I understood from Campbell, that he had taken his 
solemn promise, not to mention that circumstance,” replied 
Rashleigh : “his reason for exacting such an engagement you 
may guess from what I have hinted — he wished to get back 
to his own country, undelayed and unembarrassed by any 15 
of the judicial inquiries which he would have been under the 
necessity of attending, had the fact of his being present at 
the robbery taken air while he was on this side of the Border. 
But let him once be as distant as the Forth, 0 Morris will, 

I warrant you, come forth with all he knows about him, and, 20 
it may be, a good deal more. Besides, Campbell is a very 
extensive dealer in cattle, and has often occasion to send 
great droves into Northumberland; and, when driving such 
a trade, he would be a great fool to embroil himself with our 
Northumbrian thieves, than whom no men w r ho live are more 25 
vindictive.” 

“I dare be sworn of that,” said Miss Vernon, with a tone 
which implied something more than a simple acquiescence in 
the proposition. 

“Still,” said I, resuming the subject, “allowing the force 30 
of the reasons which Campbell might have for desiring that 
Morris should be silent with regard to his promise when the 
robbery was committed, I cannot yet see how he could attain 


100 


ROB ROY 


such an influence over the man, as to make him suppress his 
evidence in that particular, at the manifest risk of subjecting 
his story to discredit.” 

Rashleigh agreed with me, that it was very extraordinary, 1 ; 

5 and seemed to regret that he had not questioned the Scotch- 
man more closely on that subject, which he allowed looked 
extremely mysterious. “But,” he asked, immediately after 
this acquiescence, “are you very sure the circumstance of 
Morris’s being accompanied by Campbell is really not alluded 
ioto in his examination?” 

“I read the paper over hastily,” said I ; “but it is my strong 
impression that no such circumstance is mentioned ; — at 
least, it must have been touched on very slightly, since it 
failed to catch my attention.” 

15 “True, true,” answered Rashleigh, forming his own infer- 
ence while he adopted my words; “I incline to think with 
you, that the circumstance must in reality have been men- 
tioned, but so slightly that it failed to attract your attention. 
And then, as to Campbell’s interest with Morris, I incline to 
20 suppose that it must have been gained by playing upon his 
fears. This chicken-hearted fellow, Morris, is bound, I 
understand, for Scotland, destined for some little employment 
under Government ; and, possessing the courage of the wrath- 
ful dove or most magnanimous mouse, he may have been 
25 afraid to encounter the ill-will of such a kill-cow as Campbell, 
whose very appearance would be enough to fright him out of 
his little wits. You observed that Mr. Campbell has at times 
a keen and animated manner — something of a martial cast 
in his tone and bearing.” 

30 “I own,” I replied, “that his expression struck me as being 
occasionally fierce and sinister, and little adapted to his 
peaceable professions. Has he served in the army?” 

“Yes — no — not strictly speaking, served; but he has been, 


ROB ROY 


101 


I believe, like most of his countrymen, trained to arms . 0 
Indeed, among the hills, they carry them from boyhood to the 
grave. So, if you know anything of your fellow-traveller, 
you will easily judge, that, going to such a country, he will 
take care to avoid a quarrel, if he can help it, with any of the 
natives. But, come, I see you decline your wine — and I too 
am a degenerate Osbaldistone, so far as respects the circulation 
of the bottle. If you will go to my room, I will hold you a 
hand at piquet.” 

We rose to take leave of Miss Vernon, who had from time 
to time suppressed, apparently with difficulty, a strong 
temptation to break in upon Rashleigh’s details. As we 
were about to leave the room, the smothered fire broke forth. 

“Mr. Osbaldistone,” she said, “your own observation will 
enable you to verify the justice, or injustice, of Rashleigh’s 
suggestions concerning such individuals as Mr. Campbell 
and Mr. Morris. But, in slandering Scotland, he has borne 
false witness against a whole country ; and I request you will 
allow no weight to his evidence.” 

“Perhaps,” I answered, “I may find it somewhat difficult 
to obey your injunction, Miss Vernon; for I must own I was 
bred up with no very favorable idea of our northern neigh- 
bors.” 

“Distrust that part of your education, sir,” she replied, 
“and let the daughter of a Scotchwoman pray you to respect 
the land which gave her parent birth, until your own observa- 
tion has proved them to be unworthy of your good opinion. 
Preserve your hatred and contempt for dissimulation, base- 
ness, and falsehood, wheresoever they are to be met with. 
You will find enough of all without leaving England. — Adieu, 
gentlemen, I wish you good evening.” 

And she signed to the door, with the manner of a princess 
dismissing her train. 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 

30 


102 


ROB ROY 


We retired to Rashleigh’s apartment where a servant 
brought us coffee and cards. We cut for the deal, and were 
soon earnestly engaged in our play. He seemed perfectly 
to understand the beautiful game at which he played, but 
5 preferred, as it were on principle, the risking bold and pre- 
carious strokes to the ordinary rules of play; and neglecting 
the minor and better-balanced chances of the game, he 
hazarded everything for the chance of piqueing, 0 repiqueing, 
or capoting 0 his adversary. So soon as the intervention of 
io a game or two at piquet, like the music between the acts of 
a drama, had completely interrupted our previous course 
of conversation, Rashleigh appeared to tire of the game, and 
the cards were superseded by discourse, in which he assumed 
the lead. His ideas succeeded each other with the gentle but 
1 5 unintermitting flow of a plentiful and bounteous spring; 
while I have heard those of others, who aimed at distinction 
in conversation, rush along like the turbid gush from the 
sluice of a mill-pond, as hurried, and as easily exhausted. 
It was late at night ere I could part from a companion so 
20 fascinating ; and, when I gained my own apartment, it cost 
me no small effort to recall to my mind the character of 
Rashleigh, such as I had pictured him previous to this tUe- 
d-tete. 


CHAPTER XI 


What gars ye gaunt, my merrymen a’ ? 

What gars ye look sae dreary? 

What gars ye hing your head sae sair 
In the castle of Balwearie? 

Old Scotch Ballad. 

The next morning chanced to be Sunday, a day peculiarly 
hard to be got rid of at Osbaldistone Hall ; for after the formal 
religious service of the morning had been performed, at which 
all the family regularly attended, it was hard to say upon 
which individual, Rashleigh and Miss Vernon excepted, the S 
fiend of ennui descended with the most abundant outpouring 
of Ills spirit. To speak of my yesterday’s embarrassment 
amused Sir Hildebrand for several minutes, and he con- 
gratulated me on my deliverance from Morpeth or Hexham 0 
jail, as he would have done if I had fallen in attempting to io 
clear a fiVe-barred gate, and got up without hurting myself. 

“Hast had a lucky turn, lad; but do na be over venturous 
again. What, man ! the king’s road is free to all men, be they 
Whigs, be they Tories.” 

“On my word, sir, I am innocent of interrupting it; and 15 
it is the most provoking thing on earth, that every person will 
take it for granted that I am accessory to a crime which I 
despise and detest, and which would, moreover, deservedly 
forfeit my life to the laws of my country.” 

“Well, well, lad; even so be it; I ask no questions — no 20 
man is bound to tell on himsell — that’s fair play, or the devil’s 
in’t.” 


103 


104 


ROB ROY 


Rashleigh here came to my assistance ; but I could not help 
thinking that his arguments were calculated rather as hints 
to his father to put on a show of acquiescence in my declaration 
of innocence, than fully to establish it. 

5 “In your own house, my dear sir — and your own nephew 
— you will not surely persist in hurting his feelings by seeming 
to discredit what he is so strongly interested in affirming. 
No doubt, you are fully deserving of all his confidence, and 
I am sure, were there anything you could do to assist him 
io in this strange affair, he would have recourse to your goodness. 
But my cousin Frank has been dismissed as an innocent man, 
and no one is entitled to suppose him otherwise. For my 
part, I have not the least doubt of his innocence; and our 
family honor, I conceive, requires that we should maintain 
1 5 it with tongue and sword against the whole country/’ 

“Rashleigh,” said his father, looking fixedly at him, “thou 
art a sly loon — thou hast ever been too cunning for me, and 
too cunning for most folks. Have a care thou prove na too 
cunning for thy sell — two faces under one hood is no true 
20 heraldry. And since we talk of heraldry, I’ll go and read 
Gwillym.” 

This resolution he intimated with a yawn, resistless as that 
of the Goddess in the Dunciad, 0 which was responsively 
echoed by his giant sons, as they dispersed in quest of the 
25 pastimes to which their minds severally inclined them — 
Percie to discuss a pot of March beer with the steward in 
the buttery, — Thorncliff to cut a pair of cudgels, and fix 
them in their wicker hilts — John to dress May-flies, — 
Dickon to play at pitch and toss by himself, his right hand 
30 against his left, — and Wilfred to bite his thumbs and hum 
himself into a slumber which should last till dinner-time, 
if possible. Miss Vernon had retired to the library. 

Rashleigh and I were left alone in the old hall, from which 


ROB ROY 


105 


the servants, with their usual bustle and awkwardness, had 
at length contrived to hurry the remains of our substantial 
breakfast. I took the opportunity to upbraid him with the 
manner in which he had spoken of my affair to his father, 
which I frankly stated was highly offensive to me, as it seemed 5 
rather to exhort Sir Hildebrand to conceal his suspicions, than 
to root them out. 

“Why, what can I do, my dear friend?” replied Rashleigh : 
“my father’s disposition is so tenacious of suspicions of all 
kinds, when once they take root (which, to do him justice, 10 
does not easily happen), that I have always found it the best 
way to silence him upon such subjects, instead of arguing with 
him. Thus I get the better of the weeds which I cannot 
eradicate, by cutting them over as often as they appear, until 
at length they die away of themselves. There is neither 15 
wisdom nor profit in disputing with such a mind as Sir Hilde- 
brand’s, which hardens itself against conviction, and believes 
in its own inspirations as firmly as we good Catholics do in 
those of the Holy Father of Rome.” 

“It is very hard, though, that I should live in the house of 20 
a man, and he a near relation too, who will persist in believing 
me guilty of a highway robbery.” 

“My father’s foolish opinion, if one may give that epithet 
to any opinion of a father’s, does not affect your real inno- 
cence; and as to the disgrace of the fact, depend on it, that, 25 
considered in all its bearings, political as well as moral, Sir 
Hildebrand regards it as a meritorious action — a weakening 
of the enemy — a spoiling of the Amalekites 0 ; and you will 
stand the higher in his regard for your supposed accession 
to it.” 30 

“I desire no man’s regard, Mr. Rashleigh, on such terms as 
must sink me in my own; and I think these injurious sus- 
picions will afford a very good reason for quitting Osbaldi- 


106 


ROB ROY 


stone Hall, which I shall do whenever I can communicate on 
the subject with my father.” 

The dark countenance of Rashleigh, though little accus- 
tomed to betray its master’s feelings, exhibited a suppressed 
5 smile, which he instantly chastened by a sigh. 

“You are a happy man, Frank — you go and come, as the 
wind bloweth where it listeth. With your address, taste, 
and talents, you will soon find circles where they will be more 
valued, than amid the dull inmates of this mansion; while 
io I ” he paused. 

“And what is there in your lot that can make you or any 
one envy mine, — an outcast, as I may almost term myself, 
from my father’s house and favor?” 

“Ay, but,” answered Rashleigh, “consider the gratified 

1 s sense of independence which you must have attained by a very 

temporary sacrifice, — for such I am sure yours will prove 
to be ; consider the powerof acting as a free agent, of cultivat- 
ing your own talents in the way to which your taste deter- 
mines you, and in which you are well qualified to distinguish 
20 yourself. Fame and freedom are cheaply purchased by a few 
weeks’ residence in the North, even though your place of exile 
be Osbaldistone Hall. A second Ovid° in Thrace, you have not 
his reasons for writing Tristia” 

“I do not know,” said I, blushing as became a young scrib- 

2 5 bier, “how you should be so well acquainted with my truant 

studies.” 

“There was an emissary of your father’s here some time 
since, a young coxcomb, one Twineall, 0 who informed me con- 
cerning your secret sacrifices to the muses, and added, that 
30 some of your verses had been greatly admired by the best 
judges.” 

Tresham, I believe you are guiltless of having ever essayed 
to build the lofty rhyme 0 ; but you must have known in your 


ROB ROY 


107 


day many an apprentice and fellow-craft, if not some of the 
master-masons, in the temple of Apollo. 0 Vanity is their 
universal foible, from him who decorated the shades of 
Twickenham, 0 to the veriest scribbler whom he has lashed 
in his Dunciad. I had my own share of this common failing, 5 
and without considering how little likely this young fellow 
Twineall was, by taste and habits, either to be acquainted 
with one or two little pieces of poetry, which I had at times 
insinuated into Button’s coffee-house, 0 or to report the opinion 
of the critics who frequented that resort of wit and literature, 10 
I almost instantly gorged the bait ; which Rashleigh perceiv- 
ing, improved his opportunity by a diffident, yet apparently 
very anxious request to be permitted to see some of, my 
manuscript productions. 

“You shall give me an evening in my own apartment,” he 15 
continued, “for I must soon lose the charms of literary 
society for the drudgery of commerce, and the coarse every- 
day avocations of the world. I repeat it, that my com- 
pliance with my father’s wishes for the advantage of my 
family, is indeed a sacrifice, especially considering the calm 20 
and peaceful profession to which my education destined me.” 

I was vain, but not a fool, and this hypocrisy was too strong 
for me to swallow. “You would not persuade me,” I replied, 
“that you really regret to exchange the situation of an obscure 
Catholic priest, with all its privations, for wealth and society, 2 5 
and the pleasures of the world ? ” 

“With pardon be it spoken, you have mistaken my desti- 
nation — a Catholic priest, if you will, but not an obscure 
one. No, sir, — Rashleigh Osbaldistone will be more obscure, 
should he rise to be the richest citizen in London, than he 30 
might have been as a member of a church, whose ministers, 
as some one says, "set their sandall’d feet on princes.’ My 
family interest at a certain exiled court is high, and the weight 


108 


ROB ROY 


which that court ought to possess, and does possess, at Rome 
is yet higher — my talents not altogether inferior to the 
education I have received. In sober judgment, I might have 
looked forward to high eminence in the church — why might 
S not Cardinal Osbaldistone have swayed the fortunes of 
empires, well-born and well-connected, as well as the low- 
born Mazarin, 0 or Alberoni, 0 the son of an Italian gardener ? ” 
“Nay, I can give you no reason to the contrary; but in 
your place I should not much regret losing the chance of such 
io precarious and invidious elevation.” 

“Neither would I,” he replied, “were I sure that my 
present establishment was more certain ; but that must 
depend upon circumstances which I can only learn by ex- 
perience — the disposition of your father, for example.” 

15 “Confess the truth without finesse, Rashleigh; you would 
willingly know something of him from me ? ” 

“Since, like Die Vernon, you make a point of following the 
banner of the good knight Sincerity, I reply — certainly.” 
“Well, then, you will find in my father a man who has 
20 followed the paths of thriving more for the exercise they 
afforded to his talents, than for the love of the gold with which 
they are strewed. His active mind would have been happy 
in any situation which gave it scope for exertion, though 
that exertion had been its sole reward. But his wealth has 
25 accumulated, because, moderate and frugal in his habits, 
no new sources of expense have occurred to dispose of his 
increasing income. He is a man who hates dissimulation in 
others ; never practises it himself ; and is peculiarly alert in 
discovering motives through the coloring of language. Him- 
30 self silent by habit, he is readily disgusted by great talkers ; 
the rather, that the circumstances by which he is most in- 
terested, afford no great scope for conversation. He is 
severely strict in the duties of religion; but you have no 


ROB ROY 


109 


reason to fear his interference with yours, for he regards 
toleration as a sacred principle of political economy. But if 
you have any Jacobitical partialities, as is naturally to be 
supposed, you will do well to suppress them in his presence, 
as well as the least tendency to the highflying of Tory prin- 5 
ciples ; for he holds both in utter detestation. For the rest, 
his word is his own bond, and must be the law of all who act 
under him. He will fail in his duty to no one, and will permit 
no one to fail towards him ; to cultivate his favor, you must 
execute his commands, instead of echoing his sentiments. 10 
His greatest failings arise out of prejudices connected with 
his ow T n profession, or rather his exclusive devotion to it, 
which makes him see little worthy of praise or attention, 
unless it be in some measure connected with commerce.” 

“O rare-painted portrait!” exclaimed Rashleigh, when I is 
was silent — “Vandyke was a dauber to you, Frank. I see 
thy sire before me in all his strength and weakness; loving 
and honoring the King as sort of lord mayor of the empire, 
or chief of the board of trade — venerating the Commons, 
for the acts regulating the export trade — and respecting the 20 
Peers, because the Lord Chancellor sits on a woolsack.” 

“Mine was a likeness, Rashleigh; yours is a caricature. 
But in return for the carte du pays 0 which I have unfolded to 
you, give me some lights on the geography of the unknown 
lands” — 2 5 

“On which you are wrecked,” said Rashleigh. “It is not 
worth while ; it is no Isle of Calypso, 0 umbrageous with shade 
and intricate with silvan labyrinth — but a bare ragged 
Northumbrian moor, with as little to interest curiosity as 
to delight the eye ; you may descry it in all its nakedness in 30 
half an hour’s survey, as well as if I were to lay it down before 
you by line and compass.” 

“O, but something there is, worthy a more attentive survey 


110 


ROB ROY 


— What say you to Miss Vernon? Does not she form an 
interesting object in the landscape, were all round as rude as 
Iceland’s coast?” 

I could plainly perceive that Rashleigh disliked the topic 
5 now presented to him; but my frank communication had 
given me the advantageous title to make inquiries in my turn. 
Rashleigh felt this, and found himself obliged to follow my 
lead, however difficult he might find it to play his cards 
successfully. “ I have known less of Miss Vernon,” he said, 
io“for some time, than I was wont to do formerly. In early 
age I was her tutor ; but as she advanced toward womanhood, 
my various avocations, — - the gravity of the profession to 
which I was destined, — the peculiar nature of her engage- 
ments, — • our mutual situation, in short, rendered a close and 
1 5 constant intimacy dangerous and improper. I believe Miss 
Vernon might consider my reserve as unkindness, but it was 
my duty ; I felt as much as she seemed to do, when compelled 
to give way to prudence. But where was the safety in 
cultivating an intimacy with a beautiful and susceptible girl, 
20 whose heart, you are aware, must be given either to the cloister 
or to a betrothed husband?” 

“The cloister or a betrothed husband?” I echoed — “Is 
that the alternative destined for Miss Vernon?” 

“It is indeed,” said Rashleigh, with a sigh. “I need not, 
25 I suppose, caution you against the danger of cultivating too 
closely the friendship of Miss V ernon ; — you are a man of 
the world, and know how far you can indulge yourself in her 
society with safety to yourself, and justice to her. But I warn 
you, that, considering her ardent temper, you must let your 
30 experience keep guard over her as well as yourself, for the 
specimen of yesterday may serve to show her extreme thought- 
lessness and neglect of decorum.” 

There was something, I was sensible, of truth, as well as 


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111 


good sense, in all this ; it seemed to be given as a friendly 
warning, and I had no right to take it amiss ; yet I felt I could 
with pleasure have run Rashleigh Osbaldistone through the 
body all the time he was speaking. 

“The deuce take his insolence ! ” was my internal meditation. 5 
“Would he wish me to infer that Miss Vernon had fallen in 
love with that hatchet-face of his, and become degraded so 
low as to require his shyness to cure her of an imprudent 
passion ? I will have his meaning from him,” was my reso- 
lution, “if I should drag it out with cart ropes.” 10 

For this purpose, I placed my temper under as accurate a 
guard as I could, and observed, “That, for a lady of her good 
sense and acquired accomplishments, it was to be regretted 
that Miss Vernon’s manners were rather blunt and rustic.” 

“Frank and unreserved, at least, to the extreme,” replied 15 
Rashleigh : “yet, trust me, she has an excellent heart. To 
tell you the truth, should she continue her extreme aversion 
to the cloister, and to her destined husband, and should my 
own labors in the mine of Plutus 0 promise to secure me a 
decent independence, I shall think of renewing our acquain- 20 
tance and sharing it with Miss Vernon.” 

“With all his fine voice, and well-turned periods,” thought 
I, “this same Rashleigh Osbaldistone is the ugliest and most 
conceited coxcomb I ever met with ! ” 

“But,” continued Rashleigh, as if thinking aloud, “I 25 
should not like to supplant Thorncliff.” 

“Supplant Thorncliff ! — Is your brother Thorncliff,” 

I inquired, with great surprise, “the destined husband of 
Diana Vernon?” 

“Why, ay, her father’s commands, and a certain family- 30 
contract, destined her to marry one of Sir Hildebrand’s sons. 

A dispensation has been obtained from Rome to Diana 
Vernon to marry Blank Osbaldistone, Esq., son of Sir Hilde- 


112 


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brand Osbaldistone, of Osbaldistone Hall, Bart., and so forth ; 
and it only remains to pitch upon the happy man whose name 
shall fill the gap in the manuscript. Now, as Percie is seldom 
sober, my father pitched on Thorncliff, as the second prop 
5 of the family, and therefore most proper to carry on the line 
of the Osbaldistones.” 

“The young lady,” said I, forcing myself to assume an air 
of pleasantry, which, I believe, became me extremely ill, 
“would perhaps have been inclined to look a little lower on 
iothe family-tree, for the branch to which she was desirous of 
clinging.” 

“I cannot say,” he replied. “There is room for little choice 
in our family ; Dick is a gambler, John is a boor, and Wilfred 
an ass. I believe my father really made the best selection for 
1 5 poor Die, after all.” 

“The present company, ”said I, “being always excepted.” 

“Oh, my destination to the church placed me out of the 
question ; otherwise I will not affect to say, that, qualified by 
education both to instruct and guide Miss Vernon, I might 
20 not have been a more creditable choice than any of my elders.” 

“And so thought the young lady, doubtless?” 

“You are not to suppose so,” answered Rashleigh, with an 
affectation of denial which was contrived to convey the 
strongest affirmation the case admitted of : “friendship — only 
25 friendship — formed the tie betwixt us, and the tender 
affections of an opening mind to its only instructor — Love 
came not near us — I told you I was wise in time.” 

I felt little inclination to pursue this conversation any 
farther, and shaking myself clear of Rashleigh, withdrew to 
3 o my own apartment, which I recollect I traversed with much 
vehemence of agitation, repeating aloud the expressions 
which had most offended me. — “Susceptible — ardent — * 
tender affection — Love — Diana Vernon, the most beautiful 


ROB ROY 


113 


creature I ever beheld, in love with him, the bandy-legged, 
bull-necked, limping scoundrel! Richard the Third in all 
but his hump-back ! — Well, and what is it to me, that I 
should storm and rage at it? Is Diana Vernon the first 
pretty girl that has loved and married an ugly fellow ? And 5 
if she were free of every Osbaldistone of them, what concern 
is it of mine ? — a Catholic — a Jacobite — a termagant into 
the boot — for me to look that way were utter madness.” 

By throwing such reflections on the flame of my displeasure, 

I subdued it into a sort of smoldering heart-burtiing, and 10 
appeared at the dinner-table in as sulky a humor as could 
well be imagined. 


1 


CHAPTER XII 


Drunk ? — and speak parrot ? — and squabble ? — 
swagger ? — 

Swear? — and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow? 

, Othello . 0 

I did not reflect for a moment, that all this indignation, 
which I had no right whatever to entertain, proved that I was 
anything but indifferent to Miss Vernon’s charms ; and I sate 
down to table in high ill-humor with her and all the daughters 
5 of Eve. 

Miss Vernon heard me, with surprise, return ungracious 
answers to one or two playful strokes of satire which she 
threw out with her usual freedom of speech; but, having no 
suspicion that offense was meant, she only replied to my rude 
i o repartees with jests somewhat similar, but polished by her 
good temper, though pointed by her wit. At length she 
perceived I was really out of humor, and answered one of my 
rude speeches thus : — • 

“They say, Mr. Frank, that one may gather sense from 
1 5 fools — I heard cousin Wilfred refuse to play any longer at 
cudgels the other day with cousin Thornie, because cousin 
Thornie got angry, and struck harder than the rules of 
amicable combat, it seems, permitted. ‘Were I to break 
your head in good earnest/ quoth honest Wilfred, ‘I care 
20 not how angry you are, for I should do it so much the more 
easily ; — but it’s hard I should get raps over the costard, 0 
and only pay you back in make-believes’ — Do you under- 
stand the moral of this, Frank?” 

114 


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115 


“I have never felt myself under the necessity, madam, of 
studying how to extract the slender portion of sense with 
which this family season their conversation.” 

“Necessity! and madam! — You surprise me, Mr. 
Osbaldistone.” 5 

“I am unfortunate in doing so.” 

“Am I to suppose that this capricious tone is serious? or 
is it only assumed, to make your good-humor more valuable ? ” 

“You have a right to the attention of so many gentlemen 
in this family, Miss Vernon, that it cannot be worth your io 
while to inquire into the cause of my stupidity and bad 
spirits.” 

“What!” she said, “am I to understand, then, that you 
have deserted my faction, and gone over to the enemy?” 

Then, looking across the table, and observing that Rash- 15 
leigh, who was seated opposite, was watching us with a 
singular expression of interest on his harsh features, she 
continued — 

“Horrible thought!” — Ay, now I see ’tis true, 

For the grim-visaged Rashleigh smiles on me, 2 o 

And points at thee for his ! 

Well, thank Heaven, and the unprotected state which has 
taught me endurance, I do not take offense easily ; and that 
I may not be forced to quarrel, whether I like it or no, I have 
the honor, earlier than usual, to wish you'a happy digestion 25 
of your dinner and your bad humor.” 

And she left the table accordingly. 

Upon Miss Vernon’s departure, I found myself very little 
satisfied with my own conduct. I had hurled back offered 
kindness, of which circumstances had but lately pointed out 30 
the honest sincerity, and I had but just stopped short of 
insulting the beautiful, and, as she had said with some emplia- 


116 


ROB ROY 


sis, the unprotected being by whom it was proffered. My 
conduct seemed brutal in my own eyes. To combat or drown 
these painful reflections, I applied myself more frequently 
than usual to the wine which circulated on the table. 

5 At length, frantic at some real or supposed injurious in- 
sinuation, I actually struck Rashleigh with my fist. No 
Stoic philosopher, superior to his own passion and that of 
others, could have received an insult with a higher degree of 
scorn. What he himself did not think it apparently worth 
i o while to resent, Thorncliff resented for him. Swords were 
drawn, and we exchanged one or two passes, when the other 
brothers separated us by main force ; and I shall never forget 
the diabolical sneer which writhed Rashleigh’ s wayward 
features, as I was forced from the apartment by the main 
15 strength of two of these youthful Titans. They secured me 
in my apartment by locking the door, and I heard them, to 
my inexpressible rage, laugh heartily as they descended the 
stairs. I essayed in my fury to break out ; but the window- 
grates, and the strength of a door clenched with iron, resisted 
20 my efforts. At length I threw myself on my bed, and fell 
asleep amidst vows of dire revenge to be taken in the ensuing 
day. 

But with the morning cool repentance came. I felt, in 
the keenest manner, the violence and absurdity of my conduct, 
25 and was obliged to confess that wine and passion had lowered 
my intellects even'below those of Wilfred Osbaldistone, whom 
I held in so much contempt. I hastened to meet Rashleigh, 
to express myself in the highest degree sorry for the violence 
with which I had acted on the preceding evening. “No cir- 
30 cumstances,” I said when he entered, “could have wrung from 
me a single word of apology, save my own consciousness of 
the impropriety of my behavior. I hoped my cousin would 
accept of my regrets so sincerely offered, and consider how 


ROB ROY 


117 


much of my misconduct was owing to the excessive hospitality 
of Osbaldistone Hall.” 

At Rashleigh’s entrance, “black he stood as night!” 
With the same inflexible countenance he heard my excuse 
and his father’s exhortation which followed, and it was not 5 
until Sir Hildebrand had done speaking, that the cloud 
cleared away at once, and he expressed, in the kindest and 
most civil terms, his perfect satisfaction with the very hand- 
some apology I had offered. 

“Indeed,” he said, “I have so poor a brain myself, when 10 
I impose on it the least burden beyond my usual three glasses, 
that I have only, like honest Cassio, a very vague recollection 
of the confusion of last night — remember a mass of things, ‘ 
but nothing distinctly — a quarrel, but nothing wherefore 
— So, my dear cousin,” he continued, shaking me kindly by 15 
the hand, “conceive how much I am relieved by finding that 
I have to receive an apology, instead of having to make one — 

I will not have a word said upon the subject more ; I should 
be very foolish to institute any scrutiny into an account, 
when the balance, which I expected to be against me, has been 20 
so unexpectedly and agreeably struck in my favor. You see, 
Mr. Osbaldistone, I am practising the language of Lombard 
Street, 0 and qualifying myself for my new calling.” 

As I was about to answer, and raised my eyes for the 
purpose, they encountered those of Miss Vernon, who, having 25 
entered the room unobserved during the conversation, had 
given it her close attention. I began to consider how I should 
seek a scene of explanation and apology with her also, when 
she gave me to understand she was determined to save me 
trouble of soliciting an interview. “ Cousin Francis,” she said, 30 
addressing me by the same title she used to give to the other 
Osbaldistones, although I had, properly speaking, no title to 
be called her kinsman, “I have encountered this morning 


118 


ROB ROY 


a difficult passage in the Divina Commedia of Dante; will 
you have the goodness to step to the library and give me 
your assistance? and when you have unearthed for me the 
meaning of the obscure Florentine, 0 we will join the rest at 
5 Birkenwood-bank, and see their luck at unearthing the 
badger.” 

I signified, of course, my readiness to wait upon her. Rash- 
leigh made an offer to accompany us. “I am something 
better skilled,” he said, “at tracking the sense of Dante 
io through the metaphors and elisions of his wild and gloomy 
poem, than at hunting the poor inoffensive hermit yonder out 
of his cave.” 

“Pardon me, Rashleigh,” said Miss Vernon, “but as you 
are to occupy Mr. Francis’s place in the counting-house, you 
15 must surrender to him the charge of your pupil’s education 
at Osbaldistone Hall. We shall call you in, however, if there 
is any occasion; so pray do not look so grave upon it. Be- 
sides, it is a shame to you not to understand field-sports — 
What will you do should our uncle in Crane-Alley ask you 
20 the signs by which you track a badger?” 

“Ay, true, Die, — true,” said Sir Hildebrand, with a sigh, 
“I misdoubt Rashleigh will be found short at the leap when 
he is put to the trial. An’ he would ha’ learned useful 
knowledge like his brothers, he was bred up where it grew, 
25 I wuss; but French antics, and book-learning, with the new 
turnips, and the rats, and the Hanoverians, lia’ changed the 
world that I ha’ known in Old England — But come along 
with us, Rashie, and carry my hunting-staff, man ; thy cousin 
lacks none of thy company as now, and I wonna ha’ Die 
30 crossed — It’s ne’er be said there was but one woman in 
Osbaldistone Hall, and she died for lack of her will.” 

Rashleigh followed his father, as he commanded, not, how- 
ever, ere he had whispered to Diana* “I suppose I must in 


ROB ROY 


119 


discretion bring the courtier, Ceremony, in my company, and 
knock when I approach the door of the library ?” 

“No, no, Rashleigh,” said Miss Vernon; “dismiss from 
your company the false archimage 0 Dissimulation, and it will 
better ensure your free access to our classical consultations.” 5 

So saying, she led the way to the library, and I followed — 
like a criminal, I was going to say, to execution; but, as I 
bethink me, I have used the simile once, if not twice before. 
Without any simile at all, then, I followed, with a sense of 
awkward and conscious embarrassment, which I would have 10 
given a great deal to shake off. My English feelings, however, 
were too many for my French education, and I made, I 
believe a very pitiful figure, when Miss Vernon, seating her- 
self majestically in a huge elbow-chair in the library, like a 
judge about to hear a cause of importance, signed to me to l5 
take a chair opposite to her (which I did, much like the poor 
fellow who is going to be tried), and entered upon conversation 
in a tone of bitter irony. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Dire was his thought, who first in poison steeped 
The weapon formed for slaughter — direr his, 

And worthier of damnation, who instilled 
The mortal venom in the social cup, 

To fill the veins with death instead of life. 

Anonymous. 

“Upon my word, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone,” said Miss 
Vernon, with the air of one who thought herself fully entitled 
to assume the privilege of ironical reproach, which she was 
pleased to exert, “your character improves upon us, sir — I 
5 could not have thought that it was in you. Yesterday might 
be considered as your assay-piece, to prove yourself entitled 
to be free of the corporation of Osbaldistone Hall. But it 
was a masterpiece.” 

“I am quite sensible of my ill-breeding, Miss Vernon, and 
io I can only say for myself that I had received some communi- 
cations by which my spirits were unusually agitated. I am 
conscious I was impertinent and absurd.” 

“You do yourself great injustice,” said the merciless 
monitor — “you have contrived, by what I saw and have 
1 5 since heard, to exhibit in the course of one evening a happy 
display of all the various mastery qualifications which dis- 
tinguish your several cousins; — the gentle and generous 
temper of the benevolent Rashleigh, — the temperance of 
Percie, — the cool courage of Thorncliff — John’s skill in 
20 dog-breaking, — Dickon’s aptitude to betting, — all ex- 
hibited by the single individual, Mr. Francis, and that with 

120 


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121 


a selection of time, place, and circumstance, worthy the taste 
and sagacity of the sapient Wilfred.” 

“Have a little mercy, Miss Vernon,” said I; for I confess 
I thought the schooling as severe as the case merited, espe- 
cially considering from what quarter it came, “and forgive me 5 
if I suggest, as an excuse for follies I am not usually guilty of, 
the custom of this house and country. I am far from approv- 
ing of it ; but we have Shakespeare’s authority for saying, that 
good wine is a good familiar creature, and that any man living 
may be overtaken at some time.” io 

“Ay, Mr. Francis, but he places the panegyric and the 
apology in the mouth of the greatest villain his pencil has 
drawn. I will not, however, abuse the advantage your quo- 
tation has given me, by overwhelming you with the refutation 
with which the victim Cassio 0 replies to the tempter Iago. 15 
I only wish you to know, that there is one person at least J 
sorry to see a youth of talents and expectations sink into the 
slough in which the inhabitants of this house are nightly 
wallowing.” 

“I have but wet my shoe, I assure you, Miss Vernon, and 20 
am too sensible of the filth of the puddle to step farther in.” 

“If such be your resolution,” she replied, “it is a wise one. 
But I was so much vexed at what I heard, that your concerns 
have pressed before my own. — You behaved to me yesterday, 
during dinner, as if something had been told you which 25 
lessened or lowered me in your opinion — I beg leave to ask 
you what it was?” 

I endeavored with hesitation to throw the blame of my 
rude behavior upon indisposition — upon disagreeable letters 
from London. She suffered me to exhaust my apologies, and 30 
fairly to run myself aground, listening all the while with a 
smile of absolute incredulity. 

“And now, Mr. Francis, having gone through your pro- 


122 


ROB ROY 


logue of excuses, with the same bad grace with which all 
prologues are delivered, please to draw the curtain, and show 
me that which I desire to see. In a word, let me know what 
Rashleigh says of me ; for he is the grand engineer and first 
5 mover of all the machinery of Osbaldistone Hall.” 

“But, supposing there was anything to tell, Miss Vernon, 
what does he deserve that betrays the secrets of one ally to 
another ? — Rashleigh, you yourself told me, remained your 
ally, though no longer your friend.” 
io “I have neither patience for evasion, nor inclination for 
jesting, on the present subject. Rashleigh cannot — ought 
not — dare not, hold any language respecting me, Diana 
Vernon, but what I may demand to hear repeated. That 
there are subjects of secrecy and confidence between us, is 
1 5 most certain; but to such, his communications to you could 
have no relation ; and with such, I, as an individual, have no 
concern.” 

I had by this time recovered my presence of mind, and 
hastily determined to avoid making any disclosure of what 
20 Rashleigh had told me in a sort of confidence. There was 
something unworthy in retailing private conversation; it 
could, I thought, do no good, and must necessarily give Miss 
Vernon great pain. I therefore replied, gravely, “that 
nothing but frivolous talk had passed between Mr. Rashleigh 
2 5 Osbaldistone and me on the state of the family at the Hall; 
and I protested, that nothing had been said which left a 
serious impression to her disadvantage. As a gentleman, I 
said, I could not be more explicit in reporting private con- 
versation.” 

30 She started up with the animation of a Camilla 0 about to 
advance into battle. “This shall not serve your turn, sir, — 
I must have another answer from you.” Her features 
kindled — her brow became flushed — her eye glanced 


ROB ROY 


123 


wild-fire as she proceeded — “I demand such an explanation, 
as a woman basely slandered has a right to demand from 
every man who calls himself a gentleman — as a creature, 
motherless, friendless, alone in the world, left to her own 
guidance and protection, has a right to require from every 5 
being having a happier lot, in the name of that God who sent 
them into the world to enjoy, and her to suffer. You shall 
not deny me — or/’ she added, looking solemnly upward, “you 
will rue your denial, if there is justice for wrong either on 
earth or in heaven.” 10 

I was utterly astonished at her vehemence, but felt, thus 
conjured, that it became my duty to lay aside scrupulous 
delicacy, and gave her briefly, but distinctly, the heads of 
the information which Rashleigh had conveyed to me. 

She sate down and resmned her composure, as soon as I 15 
entered upon the subject, and when I stopped to seek for the 
most delicate turn of expression, she repeatedly interrupted 
me with “Go on — pray, go on; the first word which occurs 
to you is the plainest, and must be the best. Do not think 
of my feelings, but speak as you would to an unconcerned 20 
third party.” 

Thus urged and encouraged, I stammered through all the 
account which Rashleigh had given of her early contract to 
marry an Osbaldistone, and of the uncertainty and difficulty 
of her choice ; and there I would willingly have paused. But 25 
her penetration discovered that there was still something 
behind, and even guessed to what it related. 

“Well, it was ill-natured of Rashleigh to tell this tale on 
me. I am like the poor girl in the fairy tale, who was be- 
trothed in her cradle to the Black Bear of Norway, 0 but 30 
complained chiefly of being called Bruin’s bride by her com- 
panions at school. But beside all this, Rashleigh said some- 
thing of himself with relation to me — Did he not?” 


124 


ROB ROY 


“He cefrtainly hinted, that were it not for the idea of sup- 
planting his brother, he would now, in consequence of his 
change of profession, be desirous that the word Rashleigh 
should fill up the blank in the dispensation, instead of the 
5 word Thorncliff.” 

“Ay? indeed?” she replied — “was he so very conde- 
scending ? — Too much honor for his humble handmaid, 
, Diana Vernon — And she, I suppose, was to be enraptured 
with joy could such a substitute be effected?” 
io “To confess the truth, he intimated as much, and even 
farther insinuated” 

“What? — Let me hear it all !” she exclaimed, hastily. 

“That he had broken off your mutual intimacy, lest it 
should have given rise to an affection by which his destination 
15 to the church would not permit him to profit.” 

“I am obliged to him for his consideration,” replied Miss 
Vernon, every feature of her fine countenance taxed to express 
the most supreme degree of scorn and contempt. She paused 
a moment, and then said, with her usual composure, “There 
20 is but little I have heard from you which I did not expect to 
hear, and which I ought not to have expected; because, 
bating one circumstance, it is all very true. But as there are 
some poisons so active, that a few drops, it is said, will infect 
a whole fountain, so there is one falsehood in Rashleigh’s 
25 communication, powerful enough to corrupt the whole well 
in which Truth herself is said to have dwelt. It is the leading 
and foul falsehood, that, knowing Rashleigh as I have reason 
too well to know him, any circumstance on earth could make 
me think of sharing my lot with him. No,” she continued, 
30 with a sort of inward shuddering that seemed to express 
involuntary horror, “any lot rather than that — the sot, 
the gambler, the bully, the jockey, the insensate fool, 
were a thousand times preferable to Rashleigh : — the 


ROB ROY 


125 


convent — the jail — the grave, shall be welcome before 
them all.” 

I offered to express the mingled feelings of sympathy and 
admiration with which her unfortunate situation and her 
high spirit combined to impress me, but she imposed silence 5 
on me at once. 

‘‘I told you in jest,” she said, “that I disliked compliments 
— I now tell you in earnest, that I do not ask sympathy, and ; 
that I despise consolation. What I have borne, I have 
borne — «- What I am to bear I will sustain as I may; no word 10 
of commiseration can make a burden feel one feather’s weight 
lighter to the slave who must carry it. There is only one 
human being who could have assisted me, and that is he who 
has rather chosen to add to my embarrassment — Rashleigh 
Osbaldistone — Yes! the time once was that I might have 15 
learned to love that man — But, great God ! the purpose for 
which he insinuated himself into the confidence of one already 
so forlorn — the undeviating and continued assiduity with 
which he pursued that purpose from year to year, without 
one single momentary pause of remorse or compassion — the 20 
purpose for which he would have converted into poison the 
food he administered to my mind — Gracious Providence ! 
what should I have been in this world, and the next, in body 
and soul, had I fallen under the arts of this accomplished 
villain!” 25 

I was so much struck with the scene of perfidious treachery 
which these words disclosed, that I rose from my chair hardly 
knowing what I did, laid my hand on the hilt of my sword, 
and was about to leave the apartment in search of him on 
whom I might discharge my just indignation. Almost breath- 30 
less, and with eyes and looks in which scorn and indignation 
had given way to the most lively alarm, Miss Vernon 
threw herself between me and the door of the apartment. 


126 


ROB ROY 


“Stay!” she said — “stay! — however just your resent- 
ment, you do not know half the secrets of this fearful prison- 
house.” She then glanced her eyes anxiously round the 
room, and sunk her voice almost to a whisper — “He bears 
5 a charmed life ; you cannot assail him without endangering 
other lives, and wader destruction. Had it been otherwise, 
in some hour of justice he had hardly been safe, even from 
this weak hand. I told you,” she said, motioning me back 
to my seat, “that I needed no comforter. I now tell you 
iol need no avenger.” • 

I resumed my seat mechanically, musing on what she said, 
and recollecting also, what had escaped me in my first glow 
of resentment, that I had no title whatever to constitute 
myself Miss Vernon’s champion. She paused to let her 
i s own emotions and mine subside, and then addressed me with 
more composure. 

“I have already said that there is a mystery connected with 
Rashleigh, of a dangerous and fatal nature. Villain as he 
is, and as he knows he stands convicted in my eyes, I cannot 
20 — dare not, openly break with or defy him. You also, Mr. 
Osbaldistone, must bear with him with patience, foil his 
artifices by opposing to them prudence, not violence; and, 
above all, you must avoid such scenes as that of last night, 
which cannot but give him perilous advantages over you. 
25 The caution I designed to give you, and it was the object 
with which I desired this interview ; but I have extended my 
confidence farther than I proposed.” 

I assured her it was not misplaced. 

“I do not believe that it is,” she replied. “You have that 
3ojn your face and manners which authorizes trust. Let us 
continue to be friends. You need not fear,” she said, laugh- 
ing, while she blushed a little, yet speaking with a free and 
unembarrassed voice, “that friendship with us should prove 


ROB ROY 


127 


only a specious name, as the poet says, for another feeling, 

I belong, in habits of thinking and acting, rather to your sex, 
with which I have always been brought up, than to my own. 
Besides, the fatal veil was wrapt round me in my cradle ; for 
you may easily believe I have never thought of the detestable 5 
condition under which I may remove it. The time/’ she 
added, “for expressing my final determination is not arrived, 
and I would fain have the freedom of wild heath and open air 
with the other commoners of nature, as long as I can be 
permitted to enjoy them. And now that the passage in io 
Dante is made so clear, pray go and see what has become of 
the badger-baiters. My head aches so much that I cannot 
join the party.” 

I left the library, but not to join the hunters. I felt that 
a solitary walk was necessary to compose my spirits before 15 
I again trusted myself in Rashleigh’s company, whose depth 
of calculating villainy had been so strikingly exposed to me. 

I resolved, as far as possible, to meet Rashleigh’s dis- 
simulation with equal caution on my part during our resi- 
dence in the same family; and when he should depart for 20 
London, I resolved to give Owen at least such a hint of his 
character as might keep him on his guard over my father’s 
interests. 

When the day of Rashleigh’s departure arrived, his father 
bade him farewell with indifference; his brothers with the ill- 25 
concealed glee of school-boys who see their task-master de- 
part for a season, and feel a joy which they dare not express ; 
and I myself with cold politeness. When he approached 
Miss Vernon, and would have saluted her, she drew back 
with a look of haughty disdain ; but said, as she extended 30 
her hand to him, “Farewell, Rashleigh; God reward you 
for the good you have done, and forgive you for the evil you 
have meditated.” 


128 


ROB ROY 


“ Amen, my fair cousin,” he replied, with an air of sanctity, 
which belonged, I thought, to the seminary of Saint Omers, 
“ happy is he whose good intentions have borne fruit in deeds, 
and whose evil thoughts have perished in the blossom.” 

5 These were his parting words. “Accomplished hypocrite ! ” 
said Miss Vernon to me, as the door closed behind him — 
“how nearly can what we most despise and hate, approach 
in outward manner to that which we most venerate ! ” 

If thou hast any of the salt of youth left in thee, Tresham, 
iothou wilt be at no loss to account for my silence in letters to 
my father and Owen on a topic seemingly so obvious as my 
own feelings with reference to this situation. Miss Vernon’s 
extreme beauty, of which she herself seemed so little con- 
scious — her romantic and mysterious situation — the evils 
1 5 to which she was exposed — the corn-age with which she 
seemed to face them — • her manners, more frank than be- 
longed to her sex, yet, as it seemed to me, exceeding in 
frankness only from the dauntless consciousness of her 
innocence, — above all, the obvious and flattering dis- 
20 tinction which she made in my favor over all other persons, 
were at once calculated to interest my best feelings, to 
excite my curiosity, awaken my imagination, and gratify 
my vanity. I dared not, indeed, confess to myself the 
depth of the interest with which Miss Vernon inspired me, 
25 or the large share which she occupied in my thoughts. 
We read together, walked together, rode together and sate 
together. The studies which she had broken off upon 
her quarrel with Rashleigh, she now resumed, under the 
auspices of a tutor whose views were more sincere, though 
30 his capacity was far more limited. 


CHAPTER XIV 


Yon lamp its line of quivering light 
Shoots from my lady’s bower ; 

But why should Beauty’s lamp be bright 
At midnight’s lonely hour? 

Old Ballad. 

The mode of life at Osbaldistone Hall was too uniform 
to admit of description. Diana Vernon and I enjoyed much 
of our time in our mutual studies; the rest of the family 
killed theirs in such sports and pastimes as suited the seasons, 
in which we also took a share. My uncle was a man of habits, 5 
and by habit became so much accustomed to my presence 
and mode of life, that, upon the whole, he was rather fond of 
me than otherwise. 

As it is particularly unpleasant to reside in a family where 
we are at variance with any part of it, I made some efforts io 
to overcome the ill-will which my cousins entertained against 
me. I exchanged my laced hat for a jockey-cap, and made 
some progress in their opinion; I broke a young colt in a 
manner which carried me further into their good graces. A 
bet or two opportunely lost to Dickon, and an extra health is 
pledged with Percie, placed me on an easy and familiar foot- 
ing with all the young squires, except Thorncliff. Sullen, 
dogged, and quarrelsome, he regarded my residence at Os- 
baldistone Hall as an intrusion, and viewed with envious and 
jealous eyes my intimacy with Diana Vernon, whom the 20 
effect proposed to be given to a certain family-compact 
assigned to him as an intended spouse. That he loved her, 
k 129 


130 


ROB ROY 


could scarcely be said, at least without much misapplication 
of the word ; but he regarded her as something appropriated 
to himself, and resented internally the interference which 
he knew not how to prevent or interrupt. 

5 Such was the footing, upon which I stood with the family 
at Osbaldistone Hall; but I ought to mention another of its 
inmates with whom I occasionally held some discourse. This 
was Andrew Fairservice, the gardener who (since he had 
discovered that I was a Protestant) rarely suffered me to 
io pass him without proffering his Scotch mull for a social pinch. 
There were several advantages attending this courtesy. In 
the first place, it was made at no expense, for I never took 
snuff ; and secondly, it afforded an excellent apology to Andrew 
(who was not particularly fond of hard labor) for laying 
15 aside his spade for several minutes. But, above all, these 
brief interviews gave Andrew an opportunity of venting the 
news he had collected, or the satirical remarks which his 
shrewd northern humor suggested. 

“I am saying, sir,” he said to me one evening, with a face 
20 obviously charged with intelligence, “I hae been down at 
the Trinlay-knowe.” 

“Well Andrew, and I suppose you heard some news at 
the alehouse?” 

“Na, sir; I never gang to the yillhouse — that is unless 
2 5ony neighbor was to gie me a pint, or the like o’ that; but 
to gang there on ane’s ain coat-tail, is a waste o’ precious 
time and hard-won siller. — But I was doun at the Trinlay- 
knowe, as I was saying, about a wee bit business o’ my ain 
wi’ Mattie Simpson, that wants a forpit or twa o’ peers that 
30 will never be missed in the Ha’-house, — and when we were, 
at the thrangest o’ our bargain, wha suld come in but Pate 
Macready the traveling merchant ? ” 

“Pedlar, I suppose you mean?” 


ROB ROY 


131 • 


“E’en as your honor likes to ca’ him ; but it’s a creditable 
calling and a gainfu’, and has been lang in use wi’ our folk. 
Pate’s a far-awa cousin o’ mine, and we were blythe to meet 
wi’ ane anither.” 

“And you went and had a jug of ale together, I suppose, s 
Andrew? — For Heaven’s sake, cut short your story.” 

“Bide a wee — bide a wee; you southrons are aye in sic 
a hurry, and this is something concerns yoursell, an’ ye wad 
tak patience to hear’t — Yill ? — deil a drap o’ yill did Pate 
offer me; but Mattie gae us baith a drap skimmed milk, and io 
ane o’ her thick ait jannocks, that was as wat and raw as a 
divot. O for the bonnie girdle cakes o’ the north ! — and 
sae we sat doun and took out our clavers.” 

“I wish you would take them out just now. Pray, tell 
me the news, if you have got any worth telling, for I can’t is 
stop here all night.” 

“Than, if ye maun hae’t, the folk in Lunnun are a’ clean 
wud about this bit job in the north here.” 

“Clean wood ! what’s that?” 

“Ou, just real daft — neither to haud nor to bind — a’ 20 
hirdy-girdy — clean through ither — the deil’s ower Jock 
Wabster.” 

“But what does all this mean? or what business have I 
with the devil or Jack Webster?” 

“Umph!” said Andrew, looking extremely knowing, “it’s 25 
just because — just that the dirdum’s a’ about yon man’s 
pokmanty.” 

“Whose portmanteau? or what do you mean?” 

“Ou, just the man Morris’s, that he said he lost yonder : 
but if it’s no your honor’s affair, as little is it mine; and I 30 
mauna lose this gracious evening.” 

And, as if suddenly seized with a violent fit of industry, 
Andrew' began to labor most diligently. 


132 


ROB ROY 


My attention, as the crafty knave had foreseen, was now 
arrested, and unwilling, at the same time, to acknowledge 
any particular interest in that affair, by asking direct ques- 
tions, I stood waiting till the spirit of voluntary communica- 
5 tion should again prompt him to resume his story. Andrew 
dug on manfully, and spoke at intervals, but nothing to the 
purpose of Mr. Macready’s news ; and I stood and listened, 
cursing him in my heart, and desirous at the same time to 
see how long his humor of contradiction would prevail over 
io his desire of speaking upon the subject which was obviously 
uppermost in his mind. 

“ Am trenching up the sparry-grass, and am gaun to saw 
some Misegun 0 beans ; they winna want them to their swine’s 
flesh, I’s warrant — muckle gude may it do them. 

15 “And siclike dung as the grieve has gien me ! — it should 
be wheat-strae, or aiten at the warst o’t, and it’s pease dirt, 
as fizzenless as chuckie-stanes. But the huntsman guides 
a’ as he likes about the stable-yard, and he’s selled the best 
o’ the litter, I’se warrant. But, howsoever, we mauna lose a 
20 turn o’ this Saturday at e’en, for the wather’s sair broken, 
and if there’s a fair day in seven, Sunday’s sure to come and 
lick it up — Howsomever, I’m no denying that it may settle, 
if it be Heaven’s will, till Monday morning, — and what’s 
the use o’ my breaking my back at this rate? — I think, I’ll 
25 e’en awa’ hame, for yon’s the curfew, as they ca’ their jowing- 
in bell.” 

Accordingly, applying both his hands to his spade, he 
pitched it upright in the trench which he had been digging, 
and, looking at me with the air of superiority of one who knows 
30 himself possessed of important information, which he may 
communicate or refuse at his pleasure, pulled down the sleeves 
of his shirt, and walked slowly toward his coat, which lay 
carefully folded up upon a neighboring garden-seat. 


ROB ROY 


133 


“I must pay the penalty of having interrupted the tire- 
some rascal,” thought I to myself, “and even gratify Mr. 
Fairservice by taking his communication on his own terms.” 
Then, raising my voice, I addressed him, — “And, after all, 
Andrew, what are these London news you had from your 5 
kinsman, the traveling merchant ? ” 

“The pedlar, your honor means?” retorted Andrew — 
“but ca’ him what ye wull, they’re a great convenience in a 
countryside that’s scant o’ borough-towns like this Northum- 
berland — That’s no the case, now, in Scotland; — there’s 10 
the kingdom of Fife, 0 frae Culross to the East Nuik, it’s 
just like a great combined city — sae mony royal boroughs 
yoked on end to end, like ropes of ingans, with their hie- 
streets and their booths, nae doubt, and their kraemes, and 
houses of stane and lime and fore-stairs — Kirkcaldy, the 1 5 
sell o’t, is langer than ony town in England.” 

“I daresay it is all very splendid and very fine — but you 
were talking of the London news a little while ago, Andrew.” 

“Ay,” replied Andrew; “but I dinna think your honor 
cared to hear about them — Howsoever” (he continued, 20 
grinning a ghastly smile), “Pate Macready does say, that 
they are sair mistrysted yonder in their Parliament House 
about this rubbery o’ Mr. Morris, or whatever they ca’ the 
chiel.” 

“In the House of Parliament, Andrew! — how came they 25 
to mention it there?” 

“Ou, that’s just what I said to Pate; if it like your honor, 

I’ll tell you the very words; it’s no worth making a lie for 
the matter — ‘Pate,’ said I, ‘what ado had the lords and 
lairds and gentles at Lunnon wi’ the carle and his walise? — 30 
When we had a Scotch Parliament, Pate,’ says I (and deil 
rax their thrapples that reft us o’t !) ‘they sate dousely down 
and made laws for a haill country and kinrick, and never 


134 


ROB ROY 


fashed their beards about things that were competent to the 
judge ordinar o’ the bounds; but I think/ said I, ‘that if ae 
kailwife pou’d aff her neighbor’s mutch they wad hae the 
twasome o’ them into the Parliament House o’ Lunnon. It’s 
5 just/ said I, ‘amaist as silly as our auld daft laid here 
and his gomerils o’ sons, wi’ his huntsmen and his hounds, 
and his hunting cattle and horns, riding haill days 
after abit beast that winna weigh sax punds when they hae 
catched it.’” 

io “You argued most admirably, Andrew,” said I, willing to 
encourage him to get into the marrow' of his intelligence; 
“and what said Pate?” 

“Ou,” he said, “what better could be expected of a wheen 
pock-pudding English 0 folk ? — But as to the robbery, it’s 
15 like that when they’re a’ at the thrang o’ their Whig and 
Tory wark, and ca’ing ane anither, like unhanged blackguards 

— up gets ae langtongued chield and he says, that a’ the 
north of England were rank Jacobites (and, quietly, he wasna 
far wrang maybe), and that they had levied amaist open war, 

20 and a king’s messenger had been stoppit and rubbit on the 
highway, and that the best bluid o’ Northumberland had been 
at the doing o’t — and mickle gowd ta’en aff him, and mony 
valuable papers ; and that there was nae redress to be gotten 
by remeed of law, for the first justice o’ the peace that the 
2 5 rubbit man gaed to, he had fund the twa loons that did 
the deed birling and drinking wi’ him, wha but they ; and the 
justice took the word o’ the tane for the compearance o’ the 
tither; and that they e’en gae him leg-bail, and the honest 
man that had lost his siller was fain to leave the country for 
30 fear that waur had come of it.” 

“Can this be really true?” said I. 

“Pate swears it’s as true as that his ellwand is a yard lang 

— (and so it is, just bating an inch, that it may meet the 


ROB ROY 


135 


English measure) — And when the chield had said his warst, 
there was a terrible cry for names and out comes he wi’ this 
man Morris’s name, and your uncle’s, and Squire Inglewood’s, 
and other folk’s beside” (looking sly at me) — “And then 
another dragon o’ a chield got up on the other side, and said, 5 
wad they accuse the best gentleman in the land on the oath 
of a broken coward ? — for it’s like that Morris had been 
drummed out o’ the army for rinning awa in Flanders; and 
he said, it was like the story had been made up between the 
minister and him or ever he had left Lunnun ; and that, if 10 
there was to be a search-warrant granted, he thought the 
siller wad be fund some gate near to St. James’s Palace. 0 
Aweel, they trailed up Morris to their bar, as they ca’t, to 
see what he could say to the job ; but the folk that were again 
him, gae him sic an awfu’ throughgaun about his rinnin’ 15 
awa, and about a’ the ill he had ever dune or said for a’ the 
forepart o’ his life, that Patie says he looked mair like ane 
dead than living; and they cou’dna get a word o’ sense out 
o’ him, for downright fright at their growling and routing. 

He maun be a saft sap, wi’ a head nae better than a fozy 20 
frosted turnip — it wad hae ta’en a hantle o’ them to scaur 
Andrew Fairservice out o’ his tale.” 

“And how did it all end, Andrew? did your friend happen 
to learn ? ” 

“Ou, al; for as his walk is in this country, Pate put aff 25 
his journey for the space of a week or thereby, because it 
wad be acceptable to his customers to bring down the news. 
It’s just a’ gaed aff like moonshine in water. The fallow that 
began it drew in his horns, and said, that though he believed 
the man had been rubbit, yet he acknowledged he might 30 
hae been mista’en about the particulars. And then the other 
chield got up, and said, he caredna whether Morris was rubbed 
or no, provided it wasna to become a stain on ony gentleman’s 


136 


ROB ROY 


honor and reputation, especially in the north of England; 
for, said he before them, I come frae the north mysell, and I 
carena a boddle wha kens it. And this is what they ca’ 
explaining — the tane gies up a bit, and the tither gies up a 
5 bit, and a’ friends again. Aweel, after the Commons’ Parlia- 
ment had tuggit and rived, and rugged at Morris and his 
rubbery till they were tired o’t, the Lords’ Parliament they 
behoved to hae their spell o’t. In puir auld Scotland’s Parlia- 
ment they a’ sate thegither, cheek by choul, and then they 
iodidna need to hae the same blethers twice ower again. But 
till’t their lordships went wi’ as muckle teeth and gude-will, 
as if the matter had been a’ speck and span new. Forbye, 
there was something said about ane Campbell, that suld 
hae been concerned in the rubbery, mair or less, and that he 
1 5 suld hae had a warrant frae the Duke of Argyle, as a testi- 
monial o’ his character. And this put MacCallum More’s 
beard in a bleize, as gude reason there was; and he gat up 
wi’ an unco bang, and garr’d them a’ look about them, and 
wad ram it even doun their throats, there was never ane o’ 
20 the Campbells but was as wight, wise, warlike, and worthy 
trust, as auld Sir John the Graeme. 0 Now, if your honor’s 
sure ye arena a drap’s bluid a-kin to a Campbell, as I am 
nane mysell, sae far as I can count my kin, or hae had it 
counted to me, I’ll gie ye my mind on that matter.” 

25 “You may be assured I have no connection whatever with 
any gentleman of the name.” 

“ Ou, than we may speak it quietly amang oursells. There’s 
baith gude and bad o’ the Campbells, like other names. But 
this MacCallum More has an unco sway and say baith amang 
30 the grit folk at Lunnun even now ; for he canna preceesely be 
said to belang to ony o’ the twa sides o’ them, sae deil any o’ 
them likes to quarrel wi’ him sae they e’en voted Morris’s 
tale a fause caluminious libel, as they ca’t, and if he hadna 


ROB ROY 


137 


gien them legbail, he was likely to hae ta’en the air on the 
pillory for leasing-making.” 

So speaking, honest Andrew collected his dibbles, spades, 
and hoes, and threw them into a wheel-barrow, — leisurely, 
however, and allowing me full time to put any further ques- 5 
tions which might occur to me before he trundled them off 
to the toolhouse, there to repose during the ensuing day. 

I thought it best to speak out at once, lest this meddling fellow 
should suppose there were more weighty reasons for my silence 
than actually existed. 10 

“I should like to see this countryman of yours, Andrew; 
and to hear his news from himself directly. You have 
probably heard that I had some trouble from the impertinent 
folly of this man Morris” (Andrew grinned a most significant 
grin), “and I should wish to see your cousin the merchant, 15 
to ask him the particulars of what he heard in London if it 
could be done without much trouble.” 

“Naething mair easy,” Andrew observed ; “he had but to 
hint to his cousin that I wanted a pair or twa o’ hose, and he 
wad be wi’ me as fast as he could lay leg to the ground.” 20 

“O yes, assure him I shall be a customer; and as the night 
is, as you say, settled and fair, I shall walk in the garden until 
he comes; the moon will soon rise over the fells. You may 
bring him to the little back-gate ; and I shall have pleasure, in 
the meanwhile, in looking on the bushes and evergreens by 25 
the bright frosty moonlight.” 

“Vara right, vara right — that’s what I hae aften said ; 
a kail-blade, or a colliflour, glances sae glegly by moonlight, 
it’s like a leddy in her diamonds.” 

So saying, off went Andrew Fairservice with great glee. 30 
He had to walk about two miles, a labor he undertook with 
the greatest pleasure, in order to secure to his kinsman the 
sale of some articles of his trade, though it is probable he 


A 


138 


ROB ROY 


would not have given him sixpence to treat him to a quart 
of ale. “The good will of an Englishman would have dis- 
played itself in a manner exactly the reverse of Andrew’s,” 
thought I, as I paced along the smooth-cut velvet walks, 
5 which, embowered with high hedges of yew and of holly, 
intersected the ancient garden of Osbaldistone Hall. 

As I turned to retrace my steps, it was natural that I should 
lift up my eyes to the windows of the old library; which, 
small in size, but several in number, stretched along the second 
i o story of that side of the house which now faced me. Light 
glanced from their casements. I was not surprised at this, 
for I knew Miss Vernon often sat there of an evening, though 
from motives of delicacy I put a strong restraint upon myself, 
and never sought to join her at a time when I knew, all the 
1 5 rest of the family being engaged for the evening, our inter- 
views must necessarily have been strictly tete-a-tete. In the 
mornings we usually read together in the same room; but 
then it often happened that one or other of our cousins entered 
to seek some parchment duodecimo that could be converted 
20 into a fishing-book, despite its gildings and illumination, or 
to tell us of some “sport toward,” or from mere want of know- 
ing where else to dispose of themselves. In short, in the morn- 
ings the library was a sort of public room, where man and 
woman might meet as on neutral ground. In the evening 
2 5 it was very different; and bred in a country where much 
attention is paid, or was at least then paid, to bienseance, 
I was desirous to think for Miss Vernon concerning those 
points of propriety where her experience did not afford her 
the means of thinking for herself. I made her therefore 
30 comprehend, as delicately as I could that when we had even- 
ing lessons, the presence of a third party was proper. 

Miss Vernon first laughed, then blushed, and was disposed 
to be displeased; and then, suddenly checking herself, said. 


ROB ROY 


139 


“I believe you are very right; and when I feel inclined to be 
a very busy scholar, I will bribe old Martha with a cup of 
tea to sit by me and be my screen.” 

Martha, the old housekeeper, partook of the taste of the 
family at the Hall. A toast and tankard would have pleased 5 
her better than all the tea in China. However, as the use of 
this beverage was then confined to the higher ranks, Martha 
felt some vanity in being asked to partake of it ; and by dint 
of a great deal of sugar, many words scarce less sweet, and 
abundance of toast and butter, she was sometimes prevailed 10' 
upon to give us her countenance. On other occasions, the 
servants almost unanimously shunned the library after night- 
fall, because it was their foolish pleasure to believe that it 
lay on the haunted side of the house. The more timorous 
had seen sights and heard sounds there when all the rest of 15 
the house was quiet; and even the young squires were far 
from having any wish to enter these formidable precincts 
after nightfall without necessity. 

That the library had at one time been a favorite resource 
of Rashleigh — that a private door out of one side of it com- 20 
municated with the sequestered and remote apartment 
which he chose for himself, rather increased than disarmed 
the terrors which the household had for the dreaded library 
of Osbaldistone Hall. His extensive information as to what 
passed in the world — his profound knowledge of science of 25 
every kind — a few physical experiments which he occasionally 
showed off, were, in a house of so much ignorance and bigotry, 
esteemed good reasons for supposing him endowed with powers 
over the spiritual world. He understood Greek, Latin, and 
Hebrew ; and, therefore, according to the apprehension, and 30 
in the phrase of his brother Wilfred, needed not to care “for 
gfyaist or bar-ghaist, devil or dobbie.” Yea, the servants 
persisted that they had heard him hold conversations in the 


140 


ROB ROY 


library, when every varsal soul in the family were gone to 
bed ; and that he spent the night in watching for bogles, and 
the morning in sleeping in his bed, when he should have been 
heading the hounds like a true Osbaldistone. 

5 All these absurd rumors I had heard in broken hints and 
imperfect sentences, from which I was left to draw the in- 
ference; and, as easily as may be supposed, I laughed them 
to scorn. But the extreme solitude to which this chamber of 
evil fame was committed every night after curfew time, was 
io an additional reason why I should not intrude on Miss Vernon 
when she chose to sit there in the evening. 

To resume what I was saying, — I was not surprised to see 
a glimmering of light from the library windows ; but I was a 
little struck when I distinctly perceived the shadows of two 
is persons pass along and intercept the light from the first of 
the windows, throwing the casement for a moment into shade. 
“It must be old Martha,” thought I, “whom Diana has 
engaged to be her companion for the evening ; or I must have 
been mistaken, and taken Diana’s shadow for a second person. 
20 No, by Heaven ! it appears on the second window, — two 
figures distinctly traced ; and now it is lost again — it is seen 
on the third — on the fourth — the darkened forms of two 
persons distinctly seen in each window as they pass along the 
room, betwixt the windows and the lights. Whom can Diana 
25 have got for a companion?” — The passage of the shadows 
between the lights and the casements was twice repeated, 
as if to satisfy me that my observation served me truly ; after 
which the lights were extinguished, and the shades, of course, 
were seen no more. 

30 “Silly, romping, incorrigible girl!” said I to myself, “on 
whom all good advice and delicacy are thrown away ! I have 
been cheated by the simplicity of her manner, which I suppose 
she can assume just as she could a straw bonnet, were it the 


ROB ROY 


141 


fashion, for the mere sake of celebrity. I suppose, notwith- 
standing the excellence of her understanding, the society of 
half a dozen of clowns to play at whisk and swabbers 0 would 
give her more pleasure than if Ariosto 0 himself were to awake . 
from the dead.” 5 

This reflection came the more powerfully across my mind, 
because, having mustered up courage to show to Diana my 
version of the first books of Ariosto, I had requested her to 
invite Martha to a tea-party in the library that evening, to 
which arrangement Miss Vernon had refused her consent, io 
alleging some apology which I thought frivolous at the time. 

I had not long speculated on this disagreeable subject, when 
the back garden-door opened, and the figures of Andrew and 
his countryman — bending under his pack — crossed the 
moonlight alley, and called my attention elsewhere. 15 

I found Mr. Macready, as I expected, a tough, sagacious, 
long-headed Scotchman, and a collector of news both from 
choice and profession. He was able to give me a distinct 
account of what had passed in the House of Commons and 
House of Lords on the affairs of Morris, which, it appears, 20 
had been made by both parties a touchstone to ascertain 
the temper of the Parliament. It appeared also, that, as I 
learned from Andrew, by second-hand, the ministry had 
proved too weak to support a story involving the character 
of men of rank and importance, and resting upon the credit 25 
of a person of such indifferent fame as Morris, who was, 
moreover, confused and contradictory in his mode of telling 
the story. Macready was even able to supply me with a 
copy of a printed journal, or News-Letter, seldom extending 
beyond the capital, in which the substance of the debate 30 
was mentioned ; and with a copy of the Duke of Argyle s 
speech, printed upon a broadside, of which he had purchased 
several from the hawkers, because, he said, it would be a 


142 


ROB ROY 


salable article on the north of the Tweed. The first was a 
meager statement, full of blanks and asterisks, and which 
added little or nothing to the information I had from the 
. Scotchman; and the Duke’s speech, though spirited and 
5 eloquent, contained chiefly a panegyric on his country, his 
family, and his clan, with a few compliments, equally sincere, 
perhaps, though less glowing, which he took so favorable an 
opportunity of paying to himself. I could not learn whether 
my own reputation had been directly implicated, although 
iol perceived that the honor of my uncle’s family had been 
impeached, and that this person Campbell, stated by Morris 
to have been the most active robber of the two by whom he 
was assailed, was said by him to have appeared in the behalf 
of a Mr. Osbaldistone, and by the connivance of the Justice 
■is procured his liberation. In this particular, Morris’s story 
jumped with my own suspicions, which had attached to Camp- 
bell from the moment I saw him appear at Justice Inglewood’s. 
Vexed upon the whole, as well as perplexed with this extraor- 
dinary story, I dismissed the two Scotchmen, after making 
20 some purchases from Macready, and a small compliment to 
Fairservice, and retired to my own apartment to consider 
what I ought to do in defence of my character thus publicly 
attacked. 


CHAPTER XV 


Whence, and what art thou ? 

Milton. 

After exhausting a sleepless night in meditating on the 
intelligence I had received, I was at first inclined to think 
that I ought, as speedily as possible, to return to London, 
and by my open appearance repel the calumny which had 
been spread against me. But I hesitated to take this course 5 
on recollection of my father’s disposition, singularly absolute 
in his decisions as to all that concerned his family. He was 
most able, certainly, from experience, to direct what I ought 
to do, and from his acquaintance with the most distinguished 
Whigs then in power, had influence enough to obtain a hearing 10 
for my cause. So, upon the whole, I judged it most safe to 
state my whole story in the shape of a narrative, addressed 
to my father ; and as the ordinary opportunities of intercourse 
between the Hall and the post-town recurred rarely, I deter- 
mined to ride to the town, which was about ten miles’ distance, 1 5 
and deposit my letter in the post-office with my own hands. 

Indeed, I began to think it strange that, though several 
weeks had elapsed since my departure from home, I had re- 
ceived no letter, either from my father or Owen, although 
Rashleigh had written to Sir Hildebrand of his safe arrival 20 
in London, and of the kind reception he had met with from 
his uncle. Admitting that I might have been to blame, I did 
not deserve, in my own opinion, at least, to be so totally for- 
gotten by my father; and I thought my present excursion 

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ROB ROY 


might have the effect of bringing a letter from him to hand 
more early than it would otherwise have reached me. But 
before concluding my letter concerning the affair of Morris, I 
failed not to express my earnest hope and wish that my father 
5 would honor me with a few lines, were it but to express 
his advice and commands in an affair of some difficulty, 
and where my knowledge of life could not be supposed ade- 
quate to my own guidance. I found it impossible to prevail 
on myself to urge my actual return to London as a place of 
i o residence, and I disguised my unwillingness to do so under 
apparent submission to my father’s will, which, as I imposed 
it on myself as a sufficient reason for not urging my final 
departure from Osbaldistone Hall, would, I doubted not, be 
received as such by my parent. But I begged permission to 
1 5 come to London, for a short time at least, to meet and refute 
the infamous calumnies which had been circulated concerning 
me in so public a manner. Having made up my packet, in 
which my earnest desire to vindicate my character was 
strangely blended with reluctance to quit my present place 
20 of residence, I rode over to the post-town, and deposited my 
letter in the office. By doing so, I obtained possession, some- 
what earlier than I should otherwise have done, of the follow- 
ing letter from my friend Mr. Owen : 

"‘Dear Mr. Francis, 

25 “Yours received per favor of Mr. R. Osbaldistone, and note 
the contents. Shall do Mr. R. O. such civilities as are in my 
power, and have taken him to see the Bank and Custom- 
house. He seems a sober, steady young gentleman, and 
takes to business; so will be of service to the firm. Could 
30 have wished another person had turned his mind that way; 
but God’s will be done. As cash may be scarce in those parts 
have to trust you will excuse my enclosing a goldsmith’s bill, 


ROB ROY 


145 


at six days’ sight, on Messrs. Hooper and Girder of Newcastle, 
for £100, which I doubt not will be duly honored. — I re- 
main, as in duty bound, dear Mr. Frank, your very respectful 
and obedient servant, 

“Joseph Owen. 5 

“ Postscriptum. — Hope you will advise the above coming 
safe to hand. Am sorry we have so few of yours. Your 
father says he is as usual, but looks poorly.” 

From this epistle, written in old Owen’s formal style, I was 
rather surprised to observe that he made no acknowledg- 10 
ment of that private letter which I had written to him, with 
a view to possess him of Rashleigh’s real character, although, 
from the course of post, it seemed certain that he ought to 
have received it. Yet I had sent it by the usual conveyance 
from the Hall, and had no reason to suspect that it could 15 
miscarry upon the road. As it comprised matters of great 
importance both to my father and to myself, I sat down in 
the postoffice and again wrote to Owen, recapitulating the 
heads of my former letter, and requesting to know, in course 
of post, if it had reached him in safety. I also acknowledged 20 
the receipt of the bill, and promised to make use of the con- 
tents if I should have any occasion for money. I thought 
indeed, it was odd that my father should leave the care of 
supplying my necessities to his clerk ; but I concluded it was 
a matter arranged between them. On my arrival at the Hall 25 
I found that Sir Hildebrand and all his offspring had gone 
down to the little hamlet, called Trinlay-knowes, “to see,” as 
Andrew Fairservice expressed it, “a wheen midden cocks pike 
ilk ither’s harns out.” 

“It is indeed a brutal amusement, Andrew; I suppose you 30 
have none such in Scotland?” 

“Na, na,” answered Andrew boldly; then shaded away 
L 


146 


ROB ROY 


his negative with, “unless it be on Fastern’s-e’en, or the like 
o’ that — But indeed it’s no muckle matter what the folk 
do to the midden pootry, for they had siccan a skarting and 
scraping in the yard, that there’s nae getting a bean or pea 
5 keep-it for them. — But I am wondering what it is that leaves 
that turret-door open ; — now that Mr. Rashleigh’s away, 
it canna be him, I trow.” 

The turret-door to which he alluded opened to the garden 
at the bottom of a winding stair, leading down from Mr. 
io Rashleigh’s apartment. — This, as I have already mentioned, 
was situated in a sequestered part of the house, communicat- 
ing with the library by a private entrance, and by another 
intricate and dark vaulted passage with the rest of the house. 
A long narrow turf walk led, between two high holly hedges, 
15 from the turret-door to a little postern in the wall of the garden. 
By means of these communications Rashleigh, whose move- 
ments were very independent of those of the rest of his family, 
could leave the Hall or return to it at pleasure, without his 
absence or presence attracting any observation. But during 
20 his absence the stair and the turret-door were entirely dis- 
used, and this made Andrew’s observation somewhat re- 
markable. 

“Have you often observed that door open?” was my 
question. 

25 “No, just that often neither; but I hae noticed it ance or 
twice. I’m thinking it maun hae been the priest, Father 
Vaughan, as they ca’ him. Ye’ll no catch ane o’ the servants 
ganging up that stair, puir frightened heathens that they are, 
for fear of bogles and brownies, and lang-nebbit things frae 
30 the neist warld. But Father Vaughan thinks himself a 
privileged person — set him up and lay him down ! — I’se 
be caution the warst stibbler that ever stickit a sermon out 
ower the Tweed yonder, wad lay a ghaist twice as fast as him, 


ROB ROY 


147 


wi’ his holy water and his idolatrous trinkets. I dinna believe 
he speaks gude Latin neither; at least he disna take me up 
when I tell him the learned names o’ the plants.” 

Of Father Vaughan, who divided his time and his ghostly 
care between Osbaldistone Hall and about half a dozen 5 
mansions of Catholic gentlemen in the neighborhood, I have 
as yet said nothing, for I had seen but little. He was aged 
about sixty — of a good family, as I was given to understand, 
in the north — of a striking and imposing presence, grave in 
his exterior, and much respected among the Catholics of 10 
Northumberland as a worthy and upright man. There hung 
about him an air of mystery, which, in Protestant eyes, savored 
of priestcraft. The natives (such they might be well termed) 
of Osbaldistone Hall looked up to him with much more fear, 
or at least more awe, than affection. His condemnation of 15 
their revels was evident, from their being discontinued in 
some measure when the priest was a resident at the Hall. 
Even Sir Hildebrand himself put some restraint upon his 
conduct at such times, which, perhaps, rendered Father 
Vaughan’s presence rather irksome than otherwise. 20 

Father Vaughan was a particular acquaintance of Rash- 
leigh’s, otherwise, in all probability, he would scarce have 
been able to maintain his footing at Osbaldistone Hall. 
Nothing was more probable than that it might have been 
his candle which had excited my attention on a preceding 25 
evening. This led me involuntarily to recollect that the 
intercourse between Miss Vernon and the priest was marked 
with something like the same mystery which characterized 
her communications with Rashleigh. I had never heard 
her mention Vaughan’s name, or even allude to him, excepting 30 
on the occasion of our first meeting, when she mentioned the 
old priest and Rashleigh as the only conversable beings 
besides herself, in Osbaldistone Hall. 


148 


ROB ROY 


Whatever the mystery might be which overclouded the 
destinies of this beautiful and interesting female, it was clear 
that Father Vaughan was implicated in it. Did he hold 
private meetings with Miss Vernon in the library? was a 
S question which occupied my thoughts ; and if so, for what 
purpose? And why should she have admitted an intimate 
of the deceitful Rashleigh to such close confidence ? 


CHAPTER XVI' 

It happened one day about noon, going to my boat, I was 
i •‘-.exceedingly surprised with the print of a man’s naked 
foot on the shore, which was very plain to be seen on 
the sand. ^ " 

Robinson Crusoe. 0 

With the blended feelings of interest and jealousy which 
were engendered by Miss Vernon’s singular situation, my 
observations of her looks and actions became acutely 
sharpened, and that to a degree which, notwithstanding 
my efforts to conceal it, could not escape her penetration. 5 
But although my vanity early discovered that my presence 
at Osbaldistone Hall had given Diana some additional reason 
for disliking the cloister, I could by no means confide in an 
affection which seemed completely subordinate to the mys- 
teries of her singular situation. Miss Vernon was of a char- io 
acter far too formed and determined to permit her love for 
me to overpower either her sense of duty or of prudence, and 
she gave me a proof of this in a conversation which we had 
together about this period. 

We were sitting together in the library. Miss Vernon, in 15 
turning over a copy of the Orlando Furioso, which belonged 
to me, shook a piece of writing paper from between the leaves. 

I hastened to lift it, but she prevented me. — “It is verse,” 
she said, on glancing at the paper; and then unfolding it, 
but as if to wait my answer before proceeding — “May I 20 
take the liberty ? — Nay, nay, if you blush and stammer, 

149 


150 


ROB ROY 


I must do violence to your modesty, and suppose that per- 
mission is granted.” 

“It is not worthy your perusal — a scrap of a translation — 
My dear Miss Vernon, it would be too severe a trial, that you, 
5 who understand the original so well, should sit in judgment.” 

“Mine honest friend,” replied Diana, “do not, if you will 
be guided by my advice, bait your hook with too much 
humility; for, ten to one, it will not catch a single compli- 
ment. You know I belong to the unpopular family of Tell- 
io truths, and would not flatter Apollo for his lyre.” 

She proceeded to read the first stanza, which was nearly 
to the following purpose : 

“Ladies, and knights,® and arms, and love’s fair flame, 
Deeds of emprize and courtesy, I sing; 

15 What time the Moors from sultry Africk came, 

Led on by Agramant, their youthful king — 

He whom revenge and hasty ire did bring 
O’er the broad wave, in France to waste and war; 

Such ills from old Trojano’s® death did spring, 

20 Which to avenge he came from realms afar, 

And menaced Christian Charles, the Roman Emperor. 

Of dauntless Roland,® too, my strain shall sound, 

In import never known in prose or rhyme, 

How He, the chief, of judgment deemed profound, 

25 For luckless love was crazed upon a time” — 

“There is a great deal of it,” she said, glancing along the 
paper, and interrupting the sweetest sounds which mortal 
ears can drink in, — those of a youthful poet’s verses, namely, 
read by the lips which are dearest to him. 

30 “Much more than ought to engage your attention, Miss 
Vernon,” I replied, something mortified; and I took the 
verses from her unreluctant hand — “And yet,” I con- 
tinued, “shut up as I am in this retired situation, I have felt 


ROB ROY 


151 


sometimes I could not amuse myself better than by carry- 
ing on — merely for my own amusement, you will of course 
understand — the version of this fascinating author, which 
I began some months since when I was on the banks of the 
Garonne.” 0 5 

“The question would only be,” said Diana, gravely, 
“whether you could not spend your time to better purpose?” 

“You mean in original composition?” said I, greatly 
flattered — “But, to say truth my genius rather lies in find- 
ing words and rhymes than ideas; and therefore I am happy io 
to use those which Ariosto has prepared to my hand. How- 
ever, Miss Vernon, with the encouragement you give” 

“Pardon me, Frank — it is encouragement not of my giving, 
but of your taking. I meant neither original composition nor 
translation, ^nce I think you might employ your time to far 15 
better purpose than in either. You are mortified,” she con- 
tinued, “and I am sorry to be the cause.” 

“Not mortified, — certainly not mortified,” said I, with 
the best grace I could muster, and it was but indifferently 
assumed; “I am too much obliged by the interest you take 20 
in me.” 

“Nay, but,” resumed the relentless Diana, “there is both 
mortification and a little grain of anger in that constrained 
tone of voice ; do not be angry if I probe your feelings to the 
bottom — perhaps what I am about to say will affect them 25 
still more.” 9 

I felt the childishness of my own conduct, and the superior 
manliness of Miss Vernon’s, and assured her, that she need 
not fear my wincing under criticism which I knew to be 
kindly meant. 30 

“That was honestly meant and said,” she replied; “I 
knew full well that the fiend of poetical irritability flew away 
with the little preluding cough which ushered in the declara- 


152 


ROB ROY 


tion. And now I must be serious — Have you heard from 
your father lately ? ” 

“Not a word/’ I replied; “he has not honored me with a 
single line during the several months of my residence here.” 

5 “That is strange! — you are a singular race, you bold 
Osbaldistones. Then you are not aware that he has gone to 
Holland, to arrange some pressing affairs which required his 
own immediate presence?”. 

“I never heard a word of it until this moment.” 

io “And farther, it must be news to you, and I presume 
scarcely the most agreeable, that he has left Rashleigh in 
the almost uncontrolled management of his affairs until his 
return.” 

I started, and could not suppress my surprise and appre- 

1 s hension. 

“You have reason for alarm,” said Miss Vernon, very 
gravely; “and were I you, I would endeavor to meet and 
obviate the dangers which arise from so undesirable an 
arrangement.” 

20 “And how is it possible for me to do so?” 

“Everything is possible for him who possesses courage and 
activity,” she said, with a look resembling one of those heroines 
of the age of chivalry, whose encouragement was wont to 
give champions double valor at the hour of need; “and to 

2 5 the timid and hesitating, everything is impossible, because 

it seems so.” 

“And what would you advise, Miss Vernon?” I replied, 
wishing, yet dreading, to hear her answer. 

' She paused a moment, then answered firmly — “That you 

30 instantly leave Osbaldistone Hall, and return to London. 
You have perhaps already,” she continued, in a softer tone, 
“been here too long; that fault was not yours. Every 
succeeding moment you waste here will be a crime. Yes, 


ROB ROY 


153 


a crime ; for I tell you plainly, that if Rashleigh long manages 
your father’s affairs, you may consider his ruin as consum- 
mated.” 

“How is this possible?” 

“Ask no questions,” she said; “but believe me, Rash- 5 
leigh’s views extend far beyond the possession or increase of 
commercial wealth; he will only make the command of Mr. 
Osbaldistone’s revenues and property the means of putting 
in motion his own ambitious and extensive schemes. While 
your father was in Britain this was impossible ; during his 10 
absence, Rashleigh will possess many opportunities, and he 
will not neglect to use them.” 

“But how can I, in disgrace with my father, and divested 
of all control over his affairs, prevent this danger by my mere 
presence in London ? ” 15 

“That presence alone will do much. Your claim to inter- 
fere is a part of your birthright, and it is inalienable. You 
will have the countenance, doubtless, of your father’s head- 
clerk, and confidential friends and partners. Above all, 
Rashleigh’s schemes are of a nature that” — (she stopped 20 
abruptly, as if fearful of saying too much) — “are in short,” 
she resumed, “of the nature of all selfish and unconscientious 
plans, which are speedily abandoned as soon as those who 
frame them perceive their arts are discovered and watched. 
Therefore, in the language of your favorite poet — 25 

“To horse ! to horse ! Urge doubts to those that fear.”° 

A feeling, irresistible in its impulse, induced me to reply — 
“Ah ! Diana, can you give me advice to leave Osbaldistone 
Hall ? — then indeed I have already been a resident here too 
long!” 30 

Miss Vernon colored, but proceeded with great firmness — 
“Indeed, I do give you this advice — not only to quit Osbaldi- 


,154 


ROB ROY 


stone Hall, but never to return to it more. You have only 
one friend to regret here,” she continued, forcing a smile, 
“and she has been long accustomed to sacrifice her friend- 
ships and her comforts to the welfare of others. In the world 
S you will meet a hundred whose friendship will be as disinter- 
ested — more useful — less encumbered by untoward cir- 
cumstances — less influenced by evil tongues and evil times.” 

“Never!” I exclaimed, “never! — the world can afford 
me nothing to repay what I must leave behind me.” Here 
io I took her hand, and pressed it to my lips. 

“This is folly!” she exclaimed — “this is madness!” and 
she struggled to withdraw her hand from my grasp, but not 
so stubbornly as actually to succeed until I had held it for 
nearly a minute. “Hear me, sir!” she said, “and curb 
is this unmanly burst of passion. I am, by a solemn contract, 
the bride of Heaven, unless I could prefer being wedded to 
villainy in the person of Rashleigh Osbaldistone, or brutality 
in that of his brother. I am, therefore, the bride of Heaven, 

— betrothed to the convent from the cradle. To me, there- 
to fore, these raptures are misapplied — they only serve to 

prove a farther necessity for your departure, and that with- 
out delay.” At these words she broke suddenly off, and 
said, but in a suppressed tone of voice, “Leave me instantly 

— we will meet here again, but it must be for the last time.” 
25 My eyes followed the direction of hers as she spoke, and I 

thought I saw the tapestry shake, which covered the door of 
the secret passage from Rashleigh’s room to the library. 
I conceived we were observed, and turned an inquiring glance 
on Miss Vernon. 

30 “It is nothing,” said she, faintly ; “a rat behind the arras.” 
“Dead for a ducat,” would have been my reply, had I dared 
to give way to the feelings which rose indignant at the idea 
of being subjected to an eaves-dropper on such an occasion. 


ROB ROY 


155 


Prudence, and the necessity of suppressing my passion, and 
obeying Diana’s reiterated command of “Leave me! leave 
me!” came in time to prevent my rash action. I left the 
apartment in a wild whirl and giddiness of mind, which I in 
vain attempted to compose when I returned to my own. 5 


CHAPTER XVII 


I hear a voice you cannot hear, 

Which says, I must not stay ; 

I see a hand you cannot see, 

Which beckons me away. 

Tickell . 0 

I have already told you, Tresham, if you deign to bear it 
in remembrance, that my evening visits to the library had 
seldom been made except by appointment, and under the 
sanction of old Dame Martha’s presence. This, however, 
5 was entirely a tacit conventional arrangement of my own 
instituting. Of late, as the embarrassments of our relative 
situation had increased, Miss Vernon and I had never met 
in the evening at all. She had therefore no reason to suppose 
that I was likely to seek a renewal of these interviews, and 
10 especially without some previous notice or appointment 
betwixt us, that Martha might, as usual, be placed upon 
duty ; but, on the other hand, this cautionary provision was 
a matter of understanding, not of express enactment. The 
library was open to me, as to the other members of the family, 
1 5 at all hours of the day and night, and I could not be accused 
of intrusion, however suddenly and unexpectedly I might 
make my appearance in it. My belief was strong, that in 
this apartment Miss Vernon occasionally received Vaughan, 
or some other person, by whose opinion she was accustomed 
20 to regulate her conduct, and that at the times when she could 
do so with least chance of interruption. The lights which 

156 


ROB ROY 


157 


gleamed in the library at usual hours — the passing shadows 
which I h^i myself remarked — the footsteps which might 
be traced m the morning-dew from the turret-door to the 
postern-gate in the garden — sounds and sights which some 
of the servants, and Andrew Fairservice in particular, had 5 
observed, and accounted for in their own way, — all tended 
to show that the place was visited by some one different 
from the ordinary inmates of the hall. Connected as this 
visitant probably must be with the fates of Diana Vernon, 

I did not hesitate to form a plan of discovering who or what 10 
he was, — how far his influence was likely to produce good 
or evil consequences to her on whom he acted ; — above all, 
though I endeavored to persuade myself that this was a mere 
subordinate consideration, I desired to know by what means 
this person had acquired or maintained his influence over 15 
Diana, and whether he ruled over her by fear or by affection. 
The proof that this jealous curiosity was uppermost in my 
mind, arose from my imagination always ascribing Miss 
Vernon’s conduct to the influence of some one individual 
agent, although, for aught I knew about the matter, her 20 
advisers might be as numerous as Legion. I remarked this 
over and over to myself ; but I found that my mind still 
settled back in my original conviction, that one single in- 
dividual, of the masculine sex, and in all probability young 
and handsome, was at the bottom of Miss Vernon’s conduct ; 25 
and it was with a burning desire of discovering, or rather of 
detecting, such a rival, that I stationed myself in the garden 
to watch the moment when the lights should appear in the 
library windows. 

While I paced the green alleys, debating these things pro 30 
and con, I suddenly alighted upon Andrew Fairservice, perched 
up like a statue by a range of bee-hives, in an attitude of 
devout contemplation — one eye, however, watching the 


158 


ROB ROY 


motions of the little irritable citizens, who were settling in 
their straw-thatched mansion for the evening, and the other 
fixed on a book of devotion, which much attrition had de- 
prived of its corners, and worn into an oval shape; a cir- 
scumstance which, with the close print and dingy color of 
the volume in question, gave it an air of most respectable 
antiquity. 

“I was e’en taking a spell o’ worthy Mess John Quackle- 
ben’s Flower of a Sweet Savour sawn on the Meddenstead of 
iothis World,” said Andrew, closing his book at my appear- 
ance, and putting his horn spectacles, by way of mark, at the 
place where he had been reading. 

“And the bees, I observe, were dividing your attention, 
Andrew, with the learned author?” 

15 “They are a contumacious generation,” replied the gar- 
dener; “they hae sax days in the week to hive on, and yet 
it’s a common observe that they will aye swarm on the Sab- 
bath-day, and keep folk at hame frae hearing the word — • 
But there’s nae preaching at Graneagain chapel the e’en — 
20 that’s aye ae mercy.” 

“You might have gone to the parish church as I did, 
Andrew, and heard an excellent discourse.” 

“Clauts o’ cauld parritch — clauts o’ cauld parritch,” re- 
plied Andrew, with a most supercilious sneer, — “gude aneuch 
2 s for dogs, begging your honor’s pardon — Ay! I might nae 
doubt hae heard the curate linking awa at it in his white sark 
yonder, and the musicians playing on whistles, mair like a 
penny-wedding than a sermon — and to the boot of that, 
I might hae gaen to even-song, and heard Daddie Docharty 
30 mumbling his mass — muckle the better I wad hae been o’ 
that !” 

“Docharty!” said I (this was the name of an old priest, 
an Irishman, I think, who sometimes officiated at Osbaldi- 


ROB ROY 


159 


stone Hall) — “I thought Father Vaughan had been at the 
Hall. He was here yesterday.” 

“Ay,” replied Andrew; “but he left it yestreen, to gang 
to Greystock, 0 or some o’ thae west-country haulds. There’s 
an unco stir among them a’ e’enow. They are as busy as 5 
my bees are — God sain them ! that I suld even the puir 
things to the like o’ papists. Ye see this is the second swarm, 
and whiles they will swarm off in the afternoon. The first 
swarm set off sune in the morning. — But I am thinking they 
are settled in their skeps for the night ; sae I wuss your honor 10 
good-night, and grace, and muckle o’t.” 

So saying, Andrew retreated, but often cast a parting 
glance up the skeps, as he called the bee-hives. 

I had indirectly gained from him an important piece of 
information, that Father Vaughan, namely, was not supposed 15 
to be at the Hall. If, therefore, there appeared light in the 
windows of the library this evening, it either could not be 
his, or he was observing a very secret and suspicious line of 
conduct. I waited with impatience the time of sunset and 
of twilight. It had hardly arrived, ere a gleam from the 20 
windows of the library was seen, dimly distinguishable amidst 
the still enduring light of the evening. I marked its first 
glimpse, however, as speedily as the benighted sailor descries 
the first distant twinkle of the lighthouse which marks his 
course. The feelings of doubt and propriety, which had 25 
hitherto contended with my curiosity and jealousy, vanished 
when an opportunity of gratifying the former was presented 
to me. I re-entered the house, and avoiding the more fre- 
quented apartments with the consciousness of one who wishes 
to keep his purpose secret, I reached the door of the library — 30 
hesitated for a moment as my hand was upon the latch — 
heard a suppressed step within — opened the door — and 
found Miss Vernon alone. 


160 


ROB ROY 


Diana appeared surprised, — whether at my sudden en- 
trance, or from some other cause, I could not guess; but 
there was in her appearance a degree of flutter, which I had 
never before remarked, and which I knew could only be pro- 
5 duced by unusual emotion. Yet she was calm in a moment ; 
and such is the force of conscience, that I, who studied to 
surprise her, seemed myself the surprised, and was certainly 
the embarrassed person. 

“Has anything happened?” said Miss Vernon — “has 
ioany one arrived at the Hall?” 

“No one that I know of,” I answered, in some confusion; 
“I only sought the Orlando.” 

“It lies there,” said Miss Vernon, pointing to the table. 

In removing one or two books to get at that which I pre- 
15 tended to seek, I was, in truth, meditating to make a hand- 
some retreat from an investigation to which I felt my assur- 
ance inadequate, when I perceived a man’s glove lying upon 
the table. My eyes encountered those of Miss Vernon, who 
blushed deeply. 

20 “It is one of my relics,” she said, with hesitation, replying 
not to my words but to my looks ; “it is one of the gloves of 
my grandfather, the original of the superb Vandyke which 
you admire.” 

I cast a hasty glance on both gloves, and then replied 
25 gravely — “The gloves resemble each other, doubtless, in 
form and embroidery; but they cannot form a pair, since 
they both belong to the right hand.” 

She bit her lip with anger, and again colored deeply. 

“You do right to expose me,” she replied, with bitterness : 
30 “some friends would have only judged from what I said, that 
I chose to give no particular explanation of a circumstance 
which calls for none — at least to a stranger. You have 
judged better, and have made me feel, not only the mean- 


ROB ROY 


161 


ness of duplicity, but my own inadequacy to sustain the 
task of a dissembler. I now tell you distinctly, that that 
glove is not the fellow, as you have acutely discerned, \o the 
one which I just now produced ; — it belongs to a friend yet 
dearer to me than the original of Vandyke’s picture — as 
friend by whose counsels I have been, and will be, guided — 
whom I honor — whom I” she paused. 

I was irritated at her manner, and filled up the blank in 
my own way — “Whom she loves, Miss Vernon would say.” 

“And if I do say so,” she replied haughtily, “by whom shall io 
my affection be called to account?” 

“Not by me, Miss Vernon, assuredly — I entreat you to 
hold me acquitted of such presumption. — But, ” I continued, 
with some emphasis, for I was now piqued in return, “I hope 
Miss Vernon will pardon a friend, from whom she seems dis- 15 
posed to withdraw the title, for observing” 

“Observe nothing, sir,” she interrupted with some vehe- 
mence, “except that I will neither be doubted nor questioned. 
There does not exist one by whom I will be either interrogated 
or judged ; and if you sought this unusual time of presenting 20 
yourself in order to spy upon my privacy, the friendship or 
interest with which you pretend to regard me, is a poor 
excuse for your uncivil curiosity.” 

“I relieve you of my presence,” said I, with pride equal to 
her own ; for my temper has ever been a stranger to stooping, 25 
even in cases where my feelings were most deeply interested — 

“I relieve you of my presence. I awake from a pleasant, but 
a most delusive dream ; and — but we understand each 
other.” 

I had reached the door of the apartment, when Miss Vernon, 30 
whose movements were sometimes so rapid as to seem almost 
instinctive, overtook me, and, catching hold of my arm, 
stopped me with that air of authority which she could so 

M 


162 


ROB ROY 


whimsically assume, and which, from the naivete and simplic- 
ity of her manner, had an effect so peculiarly interesting. 

“Stop, Mr. Frank/’ she said, “you are not to leave me in 
that way neither ; I am not so amply provided with friends, 
5 that I can afford to throw away even the ungrateful and the 
selfish. Mark what I say, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone. You 
shall know nothing of this mysterious glove,” and she held 
it up as she spoke — “nothing — no, not a single iota more 
than you know already ; and yet I will not permit it to be a 
io gauntlet of strife and defiance betwixt us. My time here,” 
she said, sinking into a tone somewhat softer, “must neces- 
sarily be very short ; yours must be still shorter : we are soon 
to part never to meet again; do not let us quarrel, or make 
any mysterious miseries the pretext for farther embittering 
1 5 the few hours we shall ever pass together on this side of 
eternity.” 

“What does this avail?” said I, as I sate down. “What 
can this avail, Miss Vernon? Why should I witness em- 
barrassments which I cannot relieve, and mysteries which I 
20 offend you even by attempting to penetrate? Inexperienced 
as you are in the world, you must still be aware that a beauti- 
ful young woman can have but one male friend. Even in a 
male friend I will be jealous of a confidence shared with a 
third party unknown and concealed; but with you, Miss 
2 5 Vernon” 

“You are, of course, jealous, in all the tenses and moods of 
that amiable passion? But, my good friend, you have all 
this time spoke nothing but the paltry gossip which simpletons 
repeat from play-books and romances, till they give mere 
30 cant a real and powerful influence over their minds. Boys 
and girls prate themselves into love ; and when their love is 
like to fall asleep, they prate and tease themselves into 
jealousy. But you and I, Frank, are rational beings, and 


ROB ROY 


163 


neither silly nor idle enough to talk ourselves into any other 
relation than that of plain, honest, disinterested friendship. 
Any other union is as far out of our reach as if I were man, or 
you woman — To speak truth,” she added, after a moment’s 
hesitation, “even though I am so complaisant to the decorum 5 
of my sex as to blush a little at my own plain dealing, we 
cannot marry if we would; and we ought not if we could. 
What I say is sober and indisputable truth, on w r hich I will 
neither hear question nor explanation. We are therefore 
friends, Mr. Osbaldistone — are we not?” She held out her 10 
hand, and taking mine, added — “And nothing to each other 
now, or henceforward, except as friends.” 

She let go my hand. I sunk it and my head at once, fairly 
overcrowd, as Spenser 0 would have termed it, by the mingled 
kindness and firmness of her manner. She hastened to change 15 
the subject. 

“Here is a letter,” she said, “directed for you, Mr. Os- 
baldistone, very duly and distinctly; but which, notwith- 
standing the caution of the person who wrote and addressed 
it, might perhaps never have reached your hands, had it not 20 
fallen into the possession of a certain Pacolet, or enchanted 
dwarf of mine, whom, like all distressed damsels of romance, 

I retain in my secret service.” 

I opened the letter and glanced over the contents. The 
unfolded sheet of paper dropped from my hands, with the 25 
involuntary exclamation of “Gracious Heaven ! my folly and 
disobedience have ruined my father ! ” 

Miss Vernon rose with looks of real and affectionate alarm 
— “You grow pale — you are ill — shall I bring you a glass 
of water ? Be a man, Mr. Osbaldistone, and a firm one. Is 30 
your father — is he no more ? ” 

“He lives,” said I, “thank God ! but to what distress and 
difficulty” 


164 


ROB ROY 


“If that be all, despair not. May I read this letter?” she 
said, taking it up. 

I assented, hardly knowing what I said. She read it with 
great attention. 

S “Who is this Mr. Tresham, who signs the letter?” 

“My father’s partner” — (your own good father, Will) — 
“but he is little in the habit of acting personally in the busi- 
ness of the house.” 

“He writes here,” said Miss Vernon, “of various letters 
io sent to you previously.” 

“I have received none of them,” I replied. 

“And it appears,” she continued, “that Rashleigh, who has 
taken the full management of affairs during your father’s 
absence in Holland, has some time since left London for 
15 Scotland, with effect and remittances to take up large bills 
granted by your father to persons in that country, and that 
he has not since been heard of.” 

“It is but too true.” 

“And here has been,” she added, looking at the letter, 
20 “a head-clerk, or some such person, — Owenson — Owen — 
despatched to Glasgow, to find out Rashleigh, if possible, 
and you are entreated to repair to the same place, and assist 
him in his researches.” 

“It is even so, and I must depart instantly.” 

25 “Stay but one moment,” said Miss Vernon. “It seems to 
me that the worst which can come of this matter, will be the 
loss of a certain sum of money ; — and can that bring tears 
into your eyes ? For shame, Mr. Osbaldistone ! ” 

“You do me injustice, Miss Vernon,” I answered. “I 
30 grieve not for the loss of the money, but for the effect which 
I know it will produce on the spirits and health of my father 
to whom mercantile credit is as honor ; and who, if declared 
insolvent, would sink into the grave, oppressed by a sense of 


ROB ROY 


165 


grief, remorse, and despair, like that of a soldier convicted of 
cowardice or a man of honor who had lost his rank and char- 
acter in society. All this I might have prevented by a trifling 
sacrifice of the foolish pride and indolence which recoiled 
from sharing the labors of his honorable and useful profession. 5 
Good Heaven ! how shall I redeem the consequences of my 
error ?” 

“By instantly repairing to Glasgow, as you are conjured 
to do by the friend who writes this letter.” 

“But if Rashleigh,” said I, “has really formed this base and 10 
unconscientious scheme of plundering his benefactor, what 
prospect is there that I can find means of frustrating a plan 
so deeply laid ? ” 

“The prospect,” she replied, “indeed, may be uncertain; 
but, on the other hand, there is no possibility of your doing 15 
any service to your father by remaining here. Remember, 
had you been on the post destined for you, this disaster could 
not have happened ; hasten to that which is now pointed out, 
and it may possibly be retrieved. — Yet stay — do not leave 
this room until I return.” 20 

She left me in confusion and amazement; amid which, 
however, I could find a lucid interval to admire the firmness, 
composure, and presence of mind which Miss Vernon seemed 
to possess on every crisis, however sudden. 

In a few minutes she returned with a sheet of paper in her 25 
hand, folded and sealed like a letter, but without address. 

“I trust you,” she said, “with this proof of my friendship, 
because I have the most perfect confidence in your honor. If 
I understand the nature of your distress rightly, the funds in 
Rashleigh’s possession must be recovered by a certain day 30 
— the 12 th of September I think is named — in order that 
they may be applied to pay the bills in question ; and, con- 
sequently, that if adequate funds be provided before that 


166 


ROB ROY 


period, your father’s credit is safe from the apprehended 
calamity.” 

“Certainly — I so understand Mr. Tresham” — I looked 
at your father’s letter again, and added, “There cannot be a 
5 doubt of it.” 

“Well,” said Diana, “in that case my little Pacolet may be 
of use to you. You have heard of a spell contained in a letter. 
Take this packet; do not open it until other and ordinary 
means have failed. If you succeed by your own exertions 
io I trust to your honor for destroying it without opening or 
suffering it to be opened; — but if not, you may break the 
seal within ten days of the fated day, and you will find direc- 
tions which may possibly be of service to you. Adieu, Frank ; 
we never meet more — but sometimes think on your friend 
is Die Vernon.” 

She extended her hand, but I clasped her to my bosom. 
She sighed as she extricated herself from the embrace which 
she permitted — escaped to the door which led to her own 
apartment — and I saw her no more. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


And hurry, hurry, off they rode, 

As fast as fast might be ; 

Hurra, hurra, the dead can ride, 

Dost fear to ride with me? 

Burger . 0 

I set myself seriously to consider your father’s letter. It 
was not very distinct, and referred for several particulars to 
Owen, whom I was entreated to meet with as soon as possible 
at a Scotch town called Glasgow ; being informed, moreover, 
that my old friend was to be heard of at Messrs. MacVittie, 5 
MacFin, and Company, 0 merchants in the Gallowgate 0 of the 
said town. It likewise alluded to several letters, which, as it 
appeared to me, must have miscarried or have been inter- 
cepted, and complained of my obdurate silence, in terms which 
would have been highly unjust, had my letters reached their 10 
purposed destination. I was amazed as I read. That the 
spirit of Rashleigh walked around me, and conjured up these 
doubts and difficulties by which I was surrounded, I could not 
doubt for' one instant; yet it was frightful to conceive the 
extent of combined villainy and power which he must have 15 
employed in the perpetration of his designs. Let me do my- 
self justice in one respect. The evil of parting from Miss 
Vernon, however distressing it might in other respects and 
at another time have appeared to me, sunk into a subordinate 
consideration when I thought of the dangers impending over 20 
my father. 

I therefore determined to set off on my journey with day- 

167 


168 


ROB ROY 


light on the ensuing morning, and to gain the neighboring 
kingdom of Scotland before any idea of my departure was 
entertained at the Hall. I did not know the shortest, nor 
indeed any road to Glasgow; and as, in the circumstances 
5 in which I stood, despatch was of the greatest consequence, 
I determined to consult Andrew Fair service on the subject, 
as the nearest and most authentic authority within my 
reach. Late as it was, I set off with the intention of as- 
certaining this important point, and after a few minutes* 
io walk reached the dwelling of the gardener. 

Andrew’s dwelling was situated at no great distance from 
the exterior wall of the garden — a snug comfortable North- 
umbrian cottage, built of stones roughly dressed with the 
hammer, and having the windows and doors decorated with 
15 huge heavy architraves, or lintels, as they are called, of hewn 
stone, and its roof covered with broad grey flags, instead of 
slates, thatch, or tiles. A jargonelle pear-tree at one end of 
the cottage, a rivulet and flower-pot of a rood in extent in 
front, and a kitchen-garden behind; a paddock for a cow, 
20 and a small field, cultivated with several crops of grain, 
rather for the benefit of the cottager than for sale, announced 
the warm and cordial comforts which Old England, even at 
her most northern extremity, extends to her meanest in- 
habitants. 

25 As I approached the mansion of the sapient Andrew, I 
heard a noise, which, being of a nature peculiarly solemn, 
nasal, and prolonged, led me to think that Andrew, accord- 
ing to the decent and meritorious custom of his countrymen, 
had assembled some of his neighbors to join in family ex- 
30 ercise, as he called evening devotion. Andrew had indeed 
neither wife, child, nor female inmate in his family. The 
noise, however, when I listened to it more accurately, seemed 
to proceed entirely from the lungs of the said Andrew; and 


ROB ROY 


169 


when I interrupted it by entering the house, I found Fair- 
service alone, combating as he best could, with long words 
and hard names, and reading aloud, for the purpose of his 
own edification, a volume of controversial divinity. 

“I was just taking a spell,” said he, laying aside the 5 
huge folio volume as I entered, “of the worthy Doctor 
Lightfoot.” 0 

“Lightfoot !” I replied, looking at the ponderous volume 
with some surprise; “surely your author was unhappily 
named.” io 

“Lightfoot was his name, sir; a divine he was, and another 
kind of a divine than they hae now-a-days. Always, I crave 
your pardon for keeping ye standing at the door, but having 
been mistrysted (Gude preserve us !) with ae bogle the night 
already, I was dubious o’ opening the yett till I had gaen 15 
through the e’ening worship; and I had just finished the 
fifth chapter of Nehemiah — if that winna gar them keep 
their distance, I wotna what will.” 

“Trysted with a bogle!” said I; “what do you mean by 
that, Andrew?” 20 

“I said mistrysted,” replied Andrew; “that is as muckle 
as to say, fley’d wi’ a ghaist — Gude preserve us, I say again !” 

“Flay’d by a ghost, Andrew! how am I to understand 
that ? ” 

“I did not say flay’d,” replied Andrew, “but fley’d, — 25 
that is, I got a fleg, and was ready to jump out o’ my skin, 
though naebody offered to whirl it aff my body as a man wad 
bark a tree.” 

“I beg a truce to your terrors in the present case, Andrew, 
and I wish to know whether you can direct me the nearest 30 
way to a town in your country of Scotland, called Glasgow?” 

“A town ca’d Glasgow!” echoed Andrew Fairservice. 
“Glasgow’s a ceety, man. — And it’s the way to Glasgow ye 


170 


ROB ROY 


were speering if I ken’d ? — What suld ail me to ken it ? 
it’s no that dooms far frae my ain perish of Dreepdaily, that 
lies a bittock farther to the west. But what may your honor 
be gaun to Glasgow for?” 

5 “Particular business,” replied I. 

“That’s as muckle as to say, Speer nae questions, and I’ll 
tell ye nae lees. — To Glasgow ? ” — he made a short pause — 
“I am thinking ye wad be the better o’ some ane to show 
you the road.” 

io “ Certainly, if I could meet with any person going that way.” 
m “And your honor, doubtless, wad consider the time and 
trouble ? ” 

“Unquestionably — my business is pressing, and if you can 
find any guide to accompany me, I’ll pay him handsomely.” 

15 “This is no a day to speak o’ carnal matters,” said Andrew, 
casting his eyes upward; “but if it werena Sabbath at e’en, 
I wad speer what ye wad be content to gie to ane that wad 
bear ye pleasant company on the road, and tell ye the names 
of the gentlemen’s and noblemen’s seats and castles, and 
20 count their kin to ye?” 

“I tell you, all I want to know is the road I must travel; 
I will pay the fellow to his satisfaction — I will give him any- 
thing in reason.” 

“Onything,” replied Andrew, “is naething; and this lad 
25 that I am speaking o’ kens a’ the short cuts and queer by- 
paths through the hills, and” 

“I have no time to talk about it, Andrew; do you make 
the bargain for me your own way.” 

“Aha! that’s speaking to the purpose,” answered Andrew. 
30 — “I am thinking, since sae be that sae it is, I’ll be the lad 
that will guide you my sell.” 

“You, Andrew? — how will you get away from your em- 
ployment ? ” 


ROB ROY 


171 


“I tell’d your honor a while syne, that it was lang that I 
hae been thinking o’ flitting, maybe as lang as frae the first 
year I came to Osbaldistone Hall ; and now 1 am o’ the mind 
to gang in gude earnest — better soon as syne — a finger aff 
as aye wagging.” 5 

“You leave your service, then? — but will you not lose 
your wages?” 

“Nae doubt there will be a certain loss; but then I hae 
siller o’ the laird’s in my hands that I took for the apples in 
the auld orchyard — and a sair bargain the folk had that io 
bought them — a wheen green trash — and yet Sir Hilde- 
brand’s as keen to hae the siller (that is, the steward is as 
pressing about it) as if they had been a’ gowden pippins — 
and then there’s the siller for the seeds — I’m thinking the 
wage will be in a manner decently made up. — But doubt- 15 
less your honor will consider my risk of loss when we win to 
Glasgow — and ye’ll be for setting out forthwith ? ” 

“By day-break in the morning,” I answered. 

“That’s something o’ the suddenest — where am I to find 
a naig? — Stay — I ken just the beast that will answer me.” 20 

“At five in the morning, then, Andrew, you will meet me 
at the head of the avenue.” 

“Deil a fear o’ me (that I suld say sae) missing my tryste,” 
replied Andrew, very briskly ; “and if I might advise, we wad 
be aff twa hours earlier. I ken the way, dark or light, as 2 s 
weel as blind Ralph Ronaldson, that’s traveled ower every 
moor in the country-side, and disna ken the color of a heather- 
cowe when a’s dune.” 

I highly approved of Andrew’s amendment on my original 
proposal, and we agreed to meet at the place appointed at 30 
three in the morning. At once, however, a reflection came 
across the mind of my intended traveling companion. 

“The bogle! the bogle! what if it should come .out upon 


172 


ROB ROY 


us ? — I downa forgather wi thae things twice in the f our- 
and- twenty hours.” 

“Pooh! pooh!” I exclaimed, breaking away from him, 
“fear nothing from the next world — the earth contains 
5 living fiends, who can act for themselves without assistance, 
were the whole host that fell with Lucifer 0 to return to aid 
and abet them.” 

With these words, the import of which was suggested by 
my own situation, I left Andrew’s habitation, and returned 
io to the Hall. 

Nature was kinder to me than I expected, and I sunk into 
a deep and profound slumber, from which, however, I started 
as the old clock struck two from a turret adjoining to my 
bed-chamber. I instantly arose, struck a light, wrote the 
15 letter I proposed to leave for my uncle, and leaving behind 
me such articles of dress as were cumbrous in carriage, I 
deposited the rest of my wardrobe in my valise, glided down 
stairs, and gained the stable without impediment. 

As I rode up the old avenue, on which the waning moon 
20 threw its light with a pale and whitish tinge, I looked back 
with a deep and boding sigh toward the walls which contained 
Diana Vernon, under the despondent impression that we 
had probably parted to meet no more. It was impossible, 
among the long and irregular lines of Gothic 0 casements, 
25 which now looked ghastly white in the moonlight, to dis- 
tinguish that of the apartment which she inhabited. “She 
is lost to me already,” thought I, as my eye wandered over 
the dim and indistinguishable intricacies of architecture 
offered by the moonlight view of Osbaldistone Hall — “She 
30 is lost to me already, ere I have left the place which she in- 
habits! # What hope is there of my maintaining any corre- 
spondence with her, when leagues shall lie between ? ” 

While I paused in a reverie of no very pleasing nature, the 


ROB ROY 


173 


“iron tongue of time told three upon the drowsy ear of night,” 
and reminded me of the necessity of keeping my appointment 
with a person of a less interesting description and appearance 
— Andrew Fairservice. 

At the gate of the avenue I found a horseman stationed in 5 
the shadow of the wall, but it was not until I had coughed 
twice, and then called “Andrew,” that the horticulturist 
replied, “I’se warrant it’s Andrew.” 

“Lead the way, then,” said I, “and be silent if you can, 
till we are past the hamlet in the valley.” 10 

Andrew led the way accordingly, and at a much brisker 
pace than I would have recommended ; — and so well did he 
obey my injunctions of keeping silence, that he would return 
no answer to my repeated inquiries into the cause of such 
unnecessary haste. After hallooing repeatedly to Andrew to 15 
ride slower, I became seriously incensed at his impudent 
perseverance in refusing either to obey or to reply to me. I 
was so angry at length, that I threatened to have recourse 
to my pistols, and send a bullet after the Hotspur 0 Andrew, 
which should stop his fiery-footed career, if he did not abate 20 
it of his own accord. Apparently this threat made some 
impression on the tympanum of his ear, however deaf to all 
my milder entreaties; for he relaxed his pace upon hearing 
it, and, suffering me to close up to him, observed, “There 
wasna muckle sense in riding at sic a daft-like gate.” 25 

“And what did you mean by doing so at all, you self-willed 
scoundrel?” replied I; for I was in a towering passion, — 
to which, by the way, nothing contributes more than the 
having recently undergone a spice of personal fear, which, 
like a few drops of water flung on a glowing fire, is sure to 30 
inflame the ardor which it is insufficient to quench. 

“What’s your honor’s wull?” replied Andrew, with im- 
penetrable gravity. 


174 


ROB ROY 


“My will, you rascal? — I have been roaring to you this 
hour to ride slower, and you have never so much as answered 
me — Are you drunk or mad to behave so ? ” 

“An it like your honor, I am something dull o’ hearing; 

5 and I’ll no deny but I might have maybe taen a stirrup-cup 
at parting frae the auld bigging whare I hae dwelt sae lang ; 
and having naebody to pledge, nae doubt I was obliged to do 
mysell reason, or else leave the end o’ the brandy stoup to thae 
papists — and that wad be a waste, as your honor kens.” 
io This might be all very true, — and my circumstances 
required that I should be on good terms with my guide; 
I therefore satisfied myself with requiring of him to 
take his directions- from me in future concerning the 
rate of traveling. 

is Andrew, emboldened by the mildness of my tone, elevated 
his own into the pedantic, conceited octave, which was 
familiar to him on most occasions. 

“Your honor winna persuade me, and naebody shall per- 
suade me, that it’s either halesome or prudent to tak the night 
20 air on thae moors without a cordial o’ clowgilliflower water, 
or a tass of brandy or aquavitae, or sic-like creature-comfort. 
I hae taen the bent ower the Otterscrape-rigg a hundred times, 
day and night, and never could find the way unless I had taen 
my morning; mair by token that I had whiles twa bits o’ 
25 ankers o’ brandy on ilk side o’ me.” — 

“In other words, Andrew,” said I, “you were a smuggler 
— how does a man of your strict principles reconcile yourself 
to cheat the revenue?” 

“It’s a mere spoiling o’ the Egyptians,” replied Andrew; 
30 “puir auld Scotland suffers eneugh by thae blackguard loons 
o’ excisemen and gaugers, that hae come down on her like 
locusts since the sad and sorrowfu’ Union; 0 it’s the part of 
a kind son to bring her a soup o’ something that will keep up 


ROB ROY 


175 


her auld heart, — and that will they nill they, the ill-fa’ ard 
thieves ! ” 

Upon more particular inquiry, I found Andrew had fre- 
quently traveled these mountain-paths as a smuggler, both 
before and after his establishment at Osbaldistone Hall. 5 
Even now, though traveling at a more moderate pace, he often 
cast a nervous and startled look behind him ; and whenever 
the road seemed at all practicable, showed symptoms of a 
desire to accelerate his pace, as if he feared some pursuit from 
the rear. The pale beams of the morning were now enlighten- 10 
ing the horizon, when Andrew cast a look behind him, and 
not seeing the appearance of a living being on the moors which 
he had traveled, his hard features gradually unbent, as he 
first whistled, then sung, with much glee and little melody, 
the end of one of his native songs : 15 

“Jenny, lass! I think I hae her 
Ower the muir amang the heather, 

All their clan shall never get her.” 

He patted at the same time the neck of the horse which had 
carried him so gallantly ; and my attention being directed 20 
by that action to the animal, I instantly recognized a favorite 
mare of Thorncliff Osbaldistone. “How is this, sir?” said 
I sternly; “that is Mr. Thorncliff ’s mare!” 

“I’ll no say but she may aiblins hae been his honor’s 
Squire Thorncliff ’s in her day — but she’s mine now.” 25 

“You have stolen her, you rascal.” 

“Na, na, sir — nae man can wyte me wi’ theft. The thing 
stands this gate, ye see. Squire Thorncliff borrowed ten 
punds o’ me to gang to York Races — deil a boddle wad he 
pay me back again, and spake o’ raddling my banes, as he 30 
ea’d it, when I asked him but for my ain back again ; — now 
I think it will riddle him or he gets his horse ower the Border 


176 


ROB ROY 


again — unless he pays me plack and bawbee, he sail never 
see a hair o’ her tail. I ken a canny chield at Loughmaben, 
a bit writer lad, that will put me in the way to sort him. 
Steal the mear! na, na, far be the sin o’ theft frae Andrew 
5 Fairservice — I have just arrested her jurisdictions 0 fan- 
dandy causey. They are bonny writer words — amaist like 
the language o’ huz gardeners and other learned men — it’s 
a pity they’re sae dear ; — thae three words were a’ that 
Andrew got for a lang law-plea and four ankers o’ as gude 
io brandy as was e’er coupit ower craig — Hech, sirs ! but law’s 
a dear thing.” 

“You are likely to find it much dearer than you suppose, 
Andrew, if you proceed in this mode of paying yourself, with- 
out legal authority.” 

15 “Hout tout, we’re in Scotland now (be praised for’t!) and 
I can find baith friends and lawyers, and judges too, as weel 
as ony Osbaldistone o’ them a’. My mither’s mither’s third 
cousin was cousin to the Provost o’ Dumfries, and he winna 
see a drap o’ her blude wranged. Hout awa! the laws are 
20 indifferently administered here to a’ men alike ; it’s no like 
on yon side, when a chield may be whuppit awa wi’ ane o’ 
Clerk Jobson’s warrants, afore he kens where he is. But 
they will hae little eneugh law amang them by and by, and 
that is ae grand reason that I gae gi’en them gude-day.” 

25 I was highly provoked at the achievement of Andrew, and 
considered it as a hard fate, which a second time threw me 
into collision with a person of such irregular practices. I 
determined, however, to buy the mare of him, when he should 
reach the end of our journey, and send her back to my cousin 
c at Osbaldistone Hall ; and with this purpose of reparation 
I resolved to make my uncle acquainted from the next post- 
town. It was needless, I thought, to quarrel with Andrew 
in the meantime, who had, after all, acted not very unnaturally 


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177 


for a person in his circumstances. I therefore smothered my 
resentment, and asked him what he meant by his last ex- 
pressions, that there would be little law in Northumberland 
by and by ? 

“Law!” said Andrew, “hout, ay — there will be club-law 5 
eneugh. The priests and the Irish officers, and thae papist 
cattle that hae been sodgering abroad, because they durstna 
bide at hame, are a’ fleeing thick in Northumberland e’enow ; 
and thae corbies dinna gather without they smell carrion. 

As sure as ye live, his honor Sir Hildebrand is gaun to stick 10 
his horn in the bog — there’s naething but gun and pistol, 
sword and dagger, amang them — and they’ll be laying on, 
I’se warrant ; for they’re fearless fules the young Osbaldistone 
squires, aye craving your honor’s pardon.” 

This speech recalled to my memory some suspicions that 1 5 
I myself had entertained, that the Jacobites were on the eve 
of some desperate enterprise. 0 But, conscious it did not 
become me to be a spy on my uncle’s words and actions, I 
had rather avoided than availed myself of any opportunity 
which occurred of remarking upon the signs of the times. — 20 
Andrew Fairservice felt no such restraint, and doubtless 
spoke very truly in stating his conviction that some desperate 
plots were in agitation, as a reason which determined his 
resolution to leave the Hall. 

“The servants,” he stated, “with the tenantry and others, 25 
had been all regularly enrolled and mustered, and they wanted 
me to take arms also. But I’ll ride in nae siccan troop — 
they little ken’d Andrew that asked him.” 


N 


CHAPTER XIX 


Where longs to fall yon rifted spire, 

As weary of the insulting air, — 

The poet’s thoughts, the warrior’s fire, 

The lover’s sighs, are sleeping there. 

Langhorne . 0 

At the first Scotch town which we reached, my guide sought 
out his friend and counselor, to consult upon the proper and 
legal means of converting into his own lawful property the 
“bonny creature,” which was at present his own only by one 
5 of those sleight-of-hand arrangements which still sometimes 
took place in that once lawless district. I was somewhat 
diverted with the dejection of his looks on his return. He 
had, it seems, been rather too communicative to his con- 
fidential friend, the attorney ; and learned with great dismay, 
io in return for his unsuspecting frankness, that Mr. Touthope 
had, during his absence, been appointed clerk to the peace of 
the county and was bound to communicate to justice all 
such achievements as that of his friend Mr. Andrew Fair- 
service. There was a necessity, this alert member of the 
i s police stated, for arresting the horse, and placing him in 
Bailie Trumbull’s stable, therein to remain at livery, at the 
rate of twelve shillings (Scotch) per diem, until the question 
of property was duly tried and debated. He even talked as 
if, in strict and rigorous execution of his duty, he ought to 
20 detain honest Andrew himself ; but on my guide’s most 
piteously entreating his forbearance, he not only desisted 
from this proposal, but made a present to Andrew of a broken- 

178 


ROB ROY 


179 


winded and spavined pony, in order to enable him to pursue 
his journey. It is true, he qualified this act of generosity 
by exacting from poor Andrew an absolute cession of his 
right and interest in the gallant palfrey of Thorncliff Os- 
baldistone — a transference which Mr. Touthope represented 5 
as of very little consequence since his unfortunate friend, 
as he facetiously observed, was likely to get nothing of the 
mare excepting the halter. 

Andrew seemed woeful and disconcerted, as I screwed out 
of him these particulars ; for his northern pride was cruelly 10 
pinched by being compelled to admit that attorneys were 
attorneys on both sides of the Tweed; and that Mr. Clerk 
Touthope was not a farthing more sterling coin than Mr. 
Clerk Jobson. 

“It wadna hae vexed him half sae muckle to hae been 15 
cheated out o’ what might amaist be said to be won with the 
peril o’ his craig, had it happened amang the Inglaishers; 
but it was an unco thing to see hawks pike out hawks’ e’en, 
or ae kindly Scot cheat anither. But nae doubt things 
were strangely changed in his country sin’ the sad and 20 
sorrowfu’ Union;” an event to which Andrew referred 
every symptom of depravity or degeneracy which he remarked 
among his countrymen, more especially the inflammation of 
reckonings, the diminished size of pint-stoups, and other 
grievances, which he pointed out to me during our journey. 25 

We now pursued our journey to the northwestward, at a 
rate much slower than that at which we had achieved our 
nocturnal retreat from England. One chain of barren and 
uninteresting hills succeeded another, until the more fertile 
vale of Clyde 0 opened upon us ; and, with such despatch 30 
as we might, we gained the town, or, as my guide pertina- 
ciously termed it, the city of Glasgow. Of late years, I under- 
stand it has fully deserved the name, which, by a sort of polit- 


180 


ROB ROY 


ical second sight, my guide assigned to it. An extensive 
and increasing trade with the West Indies and American 
colonies, has, if I am rightly informed, laid the foundation 
of wealth and prosperity, which, if carefully strengthened 
5 and built upon, may one day support an immense fabric of 
commercial prosperity; but in the earlier time of which 
I speak, the dawn of this splendor had not arisen. The 
Union had, indeed, opened to Scotland the trade of the Eng- 
lish colonies ; but, betwixt want of capital, and the national 
io jealousy of the English, the merchants of Scotland were as 
yet excluded, in a great measure, from the exercise of the 
privileges which that memorable treaty conferred on them. 

The dusky mountains of the western Highlands often 
sent forth wilder tribes to frequent the marts of St. Mungo’s 0 
15 favorite city. Hordes of wild, shaggy, dwarfish cattle and 
ponies, conducted by Highlanders, as wild, as shaggy, and 
sometimes as dwarfish, as the animals they had in charge, 
often traversed the streets of Glasgow. It is always with 
unwillingness that the Highlander quits his deserts, and at 
20 this early period it was like tearing a pine from its rock, to 
plant him elsewhere. Yet even then the mountain glens 
were over-peopled, although thinned occasionally by famine 
or by the sword, and many of their inhabitants strayed 
down to Glasgow — there formed settlements — there 
25 sought and found employment, although different, indeed, 
from that of their native hills. This supply of a hardy and 
useful population was of consequence to the prosperity of 
the place, furnished the means of carrying on the few manu- 
factures which the town already boasted, and laid the founda- 
30 tion of its future prosperity. 

In the western metropolis of Scotland, my guide and I 
arrived on a Saturday evening, too late to entertain thoughts 
of business of any kind. We alighted at the door of a jolly 


ROB ROY 


181 


hostler-wife, as Andrew called her, — the Ostelere of old 
father Chaucer, — by whom we were civilly received. 

On the following morning the bells pealed from every 
steeple, announcing the sanctity of the day. Notwithstand- 
ing, however, what I had heard of the severity with which 5 
the Sabbath is observed in Scotland, my first impulse, not 
unnaturally, was to seek out Owen ; but on inquiry I found 
that my attempt would be in vain, “until kirk time was ower.” 
Not only did my landlady and guide jointly assure me that 
“there wadna be a living soul either in the counting-house or 10 
dwelling-house of Messrs. MacVittie, MacFin, and Com- 
pany/’ to which Owen’s letter referred me, but, moreover, 
“far less would I find any of the partners there. They were 
serious men, and wad be where a’ glide Christians ought to 
be at sic a time, and that was in the Barony Laigh Kirk.”° 15 

Situated in a populous and considerable town, this ancient 
and massive pile has the appearance of the most sequestered 
solitude. High walls divide it from the buildings of the 
city on one side ; on the other it is bounded by a ravine, at 
the bottom of which, and invisible to the eye, murmurs a 20 
wandering rivulet, adding, by its gentle noise, to the imposing 
solemnity of the scene. On the opposite side of the ravine 
rises a steep bank, covered with fir-trees closely planted, 
whose dusky shade extends itself over the cemetery with an 
appropriate and gloomy effect. The churchyard itself 25 
had a peculiar character; for though in reality extensive, 
it is small in proportion to the number of respectable inhabi- 
tants who are interred within it, and whose graves are almost 
all covered with tombstones. There is therefore no room 
for the long rank grass, which, in most cases partially clothes 30 
the surface of those retreats where the wicked cease from 
troubling, and the weary are at rest. The broad fiat monu- 
mental stones are placed so close to each other, that the 


182 


ROB ROY 


precincts appear to be flagged with them, and, though roofed 
only by the heavens, resemble the floor of one of our old 
English churches, where the pavement is covered with 
sepulchral inscriptions. 

5 The Cathedral 0 itself corresponds in impressive majesty 
with these accompaniments. We feel that its appearance 
is heavy, yet that the effect produced would be destroyed 
were it lighter or more ornamental. It is the only metro- 
politan church in Scotland, excepting, as I am informed, 
io the Cathedral of Kirkwall , 0 in the Orkneys, which remained 
uninjured at the Reformation 0 ; and Andrew Fairservice, 
who saw with great pride the effect which it produced upon 
my mind, thus accounted for its preservation — “Ah! it’s 
a brave kirk — nane o’ yere whig-maleeries and curlie- 
15 wurlies and opensteek hems about it — a’ solid, weel- jointed 
mason-wark, that will stand as lang as the warld, keep hands 
and gunpowther aff it. It had amaist a douncome lang syne 
at the Reformation, when they pu’d doun the kirks of St. 
Andrews and Perth , 0 and thereawa’, to cleanse them o’ 
20 Papery, and idolatry, and image worship, and surplices, 
and sic like rags o’ the muckle hure that sitteth on seven 
hills, as if ane wasna braid eneugh for her auld hinder end. 
Sae the commons o’ Renfrew, and o’ the Barony, and the 
Gorbals 0 and a’ about, they behoved to come into Glasgow 
25 ae fair morning, to try their hand on purging the High Kirk 
o’ Popish nick-nackets. But the townsmen o’ Glasgow, they 
were feared their auld edifice might slip the gairths in gaun 
through siccan rough physic, sae they rang the common 
bell, and assembled the train-bands wi’ took o’ drum. By 
30 good luck, the worthy James Rabat was Dean o’ Guild that 
year — (and a gude mason he was himsell, made him the 
keener to keep up the auld bigging) — and the trades assem- 
bled, and offered downright battle to the commons, rather 


ROB ROY 


183 


than their kirk should coup the crans as others had done 
elsewhere. It wasna for luve o’ Paperie — na na ! — nane 
could ever say that o’ the trades o’ Glasgow — Sae they sune 
came to an agreement to take a’ the idolatrous statues of 
sant£ (sorrow be on them) out o’ their neuks — and sae the 5 
bits o’ stane idols were broken in pieces by Scripture warrant, 
and flung into the Molendinar burn, and the auld kirk stood 
as crouse as a cat when the flaes are kaimed aff her, and a’body 
was alike pleased. And I hae heard wise folk say, that if 
the same had been done in ilka kirk in Scotland, the Reform 10 
wad just hae been as pure as it is e’en now, and we wad hae 
mair Christianlike kirks; for I hae been sae long in Eng- 
land, that naething will drived out o’ my head, that the dog- 
kennel at Osbaldistone Hall is better than mony a house o’ 
God in Scotland.” 15 

Thus saying, Andrew led the way into the place of wor- 
ship. 


CHAPTER XX 


— It strikes an awe 

And terror on my aching sight ; the tombs 
And monumental caves of death look cold, 

And shoot a chillness to the trembling heart. 

Mourning Bride . 0 

Notwithstanding the impatience of my conductor, I 
could not forbear to pause and gaze for some minutes on the 
exterior of the building, rendered more impressively dignified 
by the solitude which ensued when its hitherto open gates 
5 were closed, after having, as it were, devoured the multitude 
which had lately crowded the churchyard, but now, enclosed 
within the building, were engaged, as the choral swell of 
voices from within announced to us, in the solemn exer- 
cises of devotion. The sound of so many voices united by 
io the distance into one harmony, and freed from those harsh 
discordances which jar the ear when heard more near, com- 
bining with the murmuring brook, and the wind which sung 
among the old firs, affected me with a sense of sublimity. 
All nature, as invoked by the Psalmist whose verses they 
is chanted, seemed united in offering that solemn praise in 
which trembling is mixed with joy as she addressed her Maker. 
I had heard the service of high mass in France, celebrated 
with all the eclat which the choicest music, the richest dresses, 
the most imposing ceremonies, could confer on it; yet it 
20 fell short in effect of the simplicity of the Presbyterian worship. 
The devotion in which every one took a share, seemed so 
superior to that which was recited by musicians as a lesson 

184 


ROB ROY 185 

which they had learned by rote, that it gave the Scottish 
worship all the advantage of reality over acting. 

As I lingered to catch more of the solemn sound, Andrew, 
whose impatience became ungovernable, pulled me by the 
sleeve — “Come awa, sir — come awa; we maunna be 5 
late o’ gaun in to disturb the worship; if we bide here the 
searchers will be on us, and carry us to the guard-house for 
being idlers in kirk-time.” 

Thus admonished, I followed my guide, but not, as I had 
supposed, into the body of the cathedral. “This gate — 10 
this gate, sir,” he exclaimed, dragging me off as I made toward 
the main entrance of the building — “There’s but cauldrife 
law-work gaun on yonder — carnal mortality, as dow’d 
and as fusionless as rue leaves at Yule — Here’s the real 
savor of doctrine.” 15 

So saying, we entered a small, low-arched door, secured by 
a wicket, which a grave-looking person seemed on the point 
of closing, and descended several steps as if into the funeral 
vaults beneath the church. It was even so; for in these 
subterranean precincts, — why chosen for such a purpose I 20 
knew not, — was established a very singular place of worship. 

Conceive, Tresham, an extensive range of low-browed, dark, 
and twilight vaults, such as are used for sepulchers in other 
countries, and had long been dedicated to the same purpose 
in this, a portion of which was seated with pews, and used 25 
as a church. The part of the vaults thus occupied, though 
capable of containing a congregation of many hundreds, bore 
a small proportion to the darker and more extensive caverns 
which yawned around what may be termed the inhabited 
space. In those waste regions of oblivion, dusky banners 30 
and tattered escutcheons indicated the graves of those who 
were once, doubtless, “princes in Israel.” Inscriptions, 
which could only be read by the painful antiquary, in lan- 


186 


ROB ROY 


guage as obsolete as the act of devotional charity which 
they employed, invited the passengers to pray for the souls 
of those whose bodies rested beneath. Surrounded by these 
receptacles of the last remains of mortality, I found a numer- 
5 ous congregation engaged in the act of prayer. The Scotch 
perform this duty in a standing 0 instead of a kneeling posture 
— more, perhaps, to take as broad a distinction as possible 
from the ritual of Rome than for any better reason ; since I 
have observed, that in their family worship, as doubtless in 
io their private devotions, they adopt, in their immediate 
address to the Deity, that posture which other Christians 
use as the humblest and most reverential. Standing, there- 
fore, the men being uncovered, a crowd of several hundreds 
of both sexes, and all ages, listened with great reverence and 
is attention to the extempore, at least the unwritten, prayer 
of an aged clergyman, 0 who was very popular in the city. 
Educated in the same religious persuasion, I seriously bent 
my mind to join in the devotion of the day ; and it was not 
till the congregation resumed their seats, that my attention 
20 was diverted to the consideration of the appearance of all 
around me. 

At the conclusion of the prayer, most of the men put on 
their hats or bonnets, and all who had the happiness to have 
seats sate down. Andrew and I were not of this number, hav- 
25 ing been too late of entering the church to secure such accom- 
modation. We stood among a number of other persons in 
the same situation, forming a sort of ring around the seated 
part of the congregation. Behind and around us were the 
vaults I have already described; before us the devout audi- 
30 ence, dimly shown by the light which streamed on their 
faces through one or two low Gothic windows, such as give 
air and light to charnel-houses. By this were seen the usual 
variety of countenances which are generally turned toward 


ROB ROY 


187 


a Scotch pastor on such occasions, almost all composed to 
attention, unless where a father or mother here and there 
recalls the wandering eyes of a lively child, or disturbs the 
slumbers of a dull one. The high-boned and harsh counte- 
nance of the nation, with the expression of intelligence and 5 
shrewdness which it frequently exhibits, is seen to more 
advantage in the act of devotion, or in the ranks of war, 
than on lighter and more cheerful occasions of assemblage. 
The discourse of the preacher was well qualified to call forth 
the various feelings and faculties of his audience. 10 

Among the attentive group which I now saw, might be 
distinguished various expressions similar to those of the 
audience in the famous cartoon of Paul preaching at Athens. 
Here sat a zealous and intelligent Calvinist, 0 with brows 
bent just as much as to indicate profound attention; lips 15 
slightly compressed; eyes fixed on the minister with an 
expression of decent pride, as if sharing the triumph of his 
argument; the forefinger of the right hand touching suc- 
cessively those of the left, as the preacher, from argument 
to argument, ascended toward his conclusion. Another, 20 
with fiercer and sterner look, intimated at once his contempt 
of all who doubted the creed of his pastor, and his joy at the 
appropriate punishment denounced against them. A third, 
perhaps belonging to a different congregation, and present 
only by accident or curiosity, had the appearance of internally 25 
impeaching some link of the reasoning; and you might 
plainly read, in the slight motion of his head, his doubts 
as to the soundness of the preacher’s argument. The greater 
part listened with a calm, satisfied countenance, expressive 
of a conscious merit in being present, and in listening to such 30 
an ingenious discourse, although perhaps unable entirely 
to comprehend it. The women in general belonged to this 
last division of the audience; the old, however, seeming 


188 


ROB ROY 


more grimly intent upon the abstract doctrines laid before 
them ; while the younger females permitted their eyes occa- 
sionally to make a modest circuit around the congregation; 
and some of them, Tresham (if my vanity did not greatly 
5 deceive me), contrived to distinguish your friend and ser- 
vant as a handsome young stranger and an Englishman. 
As to the rest of the congregation, the stupid gaped, yawned, 
or slept, till awakened by the application of their more zeal- 
ous neighbors’ heels to their shins; and the idle indicated 
io their inattention by the wandering of their eyes, but dared 
give no more decided token of weariness. Amid the Low- 
land costume of coat and cloak, I could here and there dis- 
cern a Highland plaid, the wearer of which, resting on his 
basket-hilt, sent his eyes among the audience with the unre- 
15 strained curiosity of savage wonder ; and who, in all probabil- 
ity, was inattentive to the sermon for a very pardonable 
reason — because he did not understand the language in 
which it was delivered. The martial and wild look, however, 
of these stragglers, added a kind of character which the con- 
20 gregation could not have exhibited without them. They 
were more numerous, Andrew afterward observed, owing 
to some cattle-fair in the neighborhood. 

I have already said that I stood with others in the exterior 
circle, with my face to the preacher, and my back to those 
25 vaults I have so often mentioned. My position rendered 
me particularly obnoxious to any interruption which arose 
from any slight noise occurring amongst these retiring arches, 
where the least sound was multiplied by a thousand echoes. 
My eyes became habituated to the gloomy atmosphere to 
30 which I directed them, and insensibly my mind became 
more interested in their discoveries than in the metaphysical 
subtleties which the preacher was enforcing. 

My father had often checked me for this wandering mood 


ROB ROY 


189 


of mind, arising perhaps from an excitability of imagination 
to which he was a stranger ; and the finding myself at present 
solicited by these temptations to inattention, recalled the 
time when I used to walk, led by his hand, to Mr. Shower’s 
chapel, and the earnest injunctions which he then laid on 5 
me to redeem the time, because the days were evil. At pres- 
ent, the picture which my thoughts suggested, far from fixing 
my attention, destroyed the portion I had yet left, by con- 
juring up to my recollection the peril in which his affairs 
now stood. I endeavored in the lowest whisper I could frame, io 
to request Andrew to obtain information, whether any of the 
gentlemen of the firm of MacVittie & Co. were at present in 
the congregation. But Andrew, wrapped in profound atten- 
tion to the sermon, only replied to my suggestion by hard 
punches with Ills elbow, as signals to me to remain silent. 15 

While I endeavored to make a virtue of necessity, and 
recall my attention to the sermon, I was again disturbed 
by a singular interruption. A voice from behind whispered 
distinctly in my ear, “You are in danger in this city.” — 

I turned round, as if mechanically. 20 

One or two starched and ordinary-looking mechanics stood 
beside and behind me, — stragglers, who, like ourselves, 
had been too late in obtaining entrance. But a glance 
at their faces satisfied me, though I could hardly say why, 
that none of these was the person who had spoken to me; 25 
and I resolved to keep my countenance turned toward the 
clergyman, that the whisperer might be tempted to renew 
his communication under the idea that the first had passed 
unobserved. 

My plan succeeded. I had not resumed the appearance 30 
of attention to the preacher for five minutes, when the same 
voice whispered, “Listen, but do not look back.” I kept 
my face in the same direction. “You are in danger in this 


•190 


ROB ROY 


\ 

place/’ the voice proceeded; “so am I — meet me to-night 
on the Brigg, at twelve preceesely — keep at home till the 
gloaming, and avoid observation.” 

Here the voice ceased, and I instantly turned my head. 

5 But the speaker had, with still greater promptitude, glided 
behind the pillar, and escaped my observation. I was 
determined to catch a sight of him, if possible, and extricat- 
ing myself from the outer circle of hearers, I also stepped be- 
hind the column. All there was empty; and I could only 
io see a figure wrapped in a mantle, whether a Lowland cloak, 
or Highland plaid, I could not distinguish, which traversed, 
like a phantom, the dreary vacuity of vaults which I have 
described. 

I made a mechanical attempt to pursue the mysterious 
15 form, which glided away and vanished in the vaulted cemetery, 
like the specter of one of the numerous dead who rested within 
its precincts. I had little chance of arresting the course of 
one obviously determined not to be spoken with; but that 
little chance was lost by my stumbling and falling before I 
20 had made three steps from the column. The obscurity which 
occasioned my misfortune, covered my disgrace; which I 
accounted rather lucky, for the preacher, with that stern 
authority which the Scottish ministers assume for the pur- 
pose of keeping order in their congregations, interrupted 
25 his discourse, to desire the “proper officer” to take into cus- 
tody the causer of this disturbance in the place of worship. 
As the noise, however, was not repeated, the beadle, or 
whatever else he was called, did not think it necessary to 
be rigorous in searching out the offender; so that I was 
30 enabled, without attracting farther observation, to place 
myself by Andrew’s side in my original position. The service 
proceeded, and closed without the occurrence of anything 
else worthy of notice. * 


ROB ROY 


191 


As the congregation departed and dispersed, my friend An- 
drew exclaimed, “See, yonder is worthy Mr. MacVittie, 
and Mrs. MacVittie, and Miss Alison MacVittie, and Mr. 
Thamas MacFin, that they say is to marry Miss Alison, if 
a’ bowls row right — she’ll hae a hantle siller, if she’s no that 5 
bonny.” 

My eyes took the direction he pointed out. Mr. MacVittie 
was a tall, thin, elderly man, with hard features, thick grey 
eyebrows, light eyes, and, as I imagined, a sinister expression 
of countenance, from which my heart recoiled. I remembered 10 
the warning I had received in the church, and hesitated to 
address this person, though I could not allege to myself any 
rational ground of dislike or suspicion. 

I was yet in suspense, when Andrew, who mistook my hesi- 
tation for bashfulness, proceeded to exhort me to lay it aside. 15 
“Speak till him — speak till him, Mr. Francis — he’s no 
provost yet, though they say he’ll be my lord neist year. 
Speak till him, then — he’ll gie ye a decent answer, for, as 
rich as he is, unless ye were wanting siller frae him — they 
say he’s dour to draw his purse.” 20 

It immediately occurred to me, that if this merchant were 
really of the churlish and avaricious disposition which Andrew 
intimated, there might be some caution necessary in making 
myself known, as I could not tell how accounts might stand 
between my father and him. This consideration came in 25- 
aid of the mysterious hint which I had received, and the dis- 
like which I had conceived at the man’s countenance. In- 
stead of addressing myself directly to him, as I had designed 
to have done, I contented myself with desiring Andrew to 
inquire at Mr. MacVittie’s house the address of Mr. Owen, 30 
an English gentleman; and I charged him not to mention 
the person from whom he received the commission, but to 
bring me the result to the small inn where we lodged. This 


192 


ROB ROY 


Andrew promised to do. He said something of the duty of 
my attending the evening service ; but added with a caustic- 
ity natural to him, that “in troth, if folk couldna keep their 
legs still, but wad needs be couping the creels ower through- 
S stanes, as if they wad raise the very dead folk wi’ the clatter 
a kirk wi’ a chimley in’t was fittest for them,” 


CHAPTER XXI 


On the Rialto, every night at twelve, 

I take my evening’s walk of meditation : 

There we two will meet. 

Venice Preserved . 0 

Full of sinister augury, for which, however, I could assign 
no satisfactory cause, I shut myself up in my apartment 
at the inn, and having dismissed Andrew, after resisting his 
importunity to accompany him to St. Enoch’s Kirk,° where, 
he said, “a soul-searching divine was to haud forth,” I sets 
myself seriously to consider what were best to be done. 

Let me not conceal from you, Tresham, what at the time 
I endeavored to conceal from myself — the subdued, yet 
secretly-cherished hope, that Diana Vernon might — by 
what chance I knew not — through what means I could io 
not guess — have some connection with this strange and 
dubious intimation conveyed at a time and place, and in a 
manner so surprising. She alone — whispered this insidious 
thought — she alone knew of my journey; from her own 
account, she possessed friends and influence in Scotland ; she 1 5 
had furnished me with a talisman, 0 whose power I was to 
invoke when all other aid failed me; who then but Diana 
Vernon possessed either means, knowledge, or inclination for 
averting the dangers, by. which, as it seemed, my steps were 
surrounded ? This flattering view of my very doubtful 20 
case pressed itself upon me again and again, until finally I 
seized my hat, and rushed into the open air with the feeling 
of one who would fly from his own thoughts. Yet perhaps 
o 193 


194 


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I yielded to the very feelings from which I seemed to fly, 
since my steps insensibly led me to the bridge over the Clyde, 
the place assigned for the rendezvous by my mysterious 
monitor. 

5 As I walked down one of the avenues near the river, I 
heard, to my surprise, the sharp and conceited voice of 
Andrew Fairservice, raised by a sense of self-consequence to a 
pitch somewhat higher than others seemed to think consistent 
with the solemnity of the day. To slip behind the row of 
io trees under which I walked was perhaps no very dignified 
proceeding; but it was the easiest mode of escaping his ob- 
servation, and perhaps his impertinent assiduity,' and still 
more intrusive curiosity. As he passed, I heard him com- 
municate to a grave-looking man, in a black coat, a slouched 
15 hat, and Geneva cloak, the following sketch of a character, 
which my self-love, while revolting against it as a caricature, 
could not, nevertheless, refuse to recognize as a likeness. 

“Ay, ay, Mr. Hammorgaw, it’s e’en as I tell ye. He’s 
no a’thegither sae void o’ sense neither; he has a gloaming 
20 sight o’ what’s reasonable — that is anes and awa’ — a 
glisk and nae mair ; but he’s crack-brained and cockle-headed 
about his nipperty-tipperty poetry nonsense — He’ll glowr 
at an auld-warld barkit aik-snag as if it were a queezmaddam 
in full bearing; and a naked craig, wi’ a burn jawing ower’t, 
25 is unto him as a garden garnisht with flowering knots and 
choice pot-herbs. Then he wad rather claver wi’ a daft 
quean they ca’ Diana Vernon (weel I wot they might ca’ 
her Diana of the Ephesians, 0 for she’s little better than a 
heathen — better? she’s waur — a Roman, a mere Roman) 
30 — he’ll claver wi’ her, or any ither idle slut, rather than hear 
what might do him gude a’ the days of his life, frae you or 
me, Mr. Hammorgaw, or ony ither sober and sponsible 
person. Reason, sir, is what he canna endure — he’s a’ for 


ROB ROY 


195 


your vanities and volubilities; and he ance tell’d me (puir 
blinded creature !) that the Psalms of David were excellent 
poetry ! as if the holy Psalmist thought o’ rattling rhymes 
in a blether, like his ain silly clinkum-clankum things that 
he ca’s verse. Gude help him ! — twa lines o’ Davie Lindsay 0 5 
would ding a ’ he ever clerkit.’ ” 

While listening to this perverted account of my temper 
and studies, you will not be surprised if I meditated for Mr. 
Fairservice the unpleasant surprise of a broken pate on the 
first decent opportunity. His friend only intimated his 10 
attention by “Ay, ay!” and “Is’t e’en sae?” and suchlike 
expressions of interest, at the proper breaks in Mr. Fair- 
service’s harangue, until at length, in answer to some observa- 
tion of greater length, the import of which I only collected 
from my trusty guide’s reply, honest Andrew answered, “Tell 15 
him a bit o’ my mind, quoth he ? Wha wad be fule then but 
Andrew ? He’s a red-wud deevil, man — He’s like Giles 
Heathertap’s auld boar ; — ye need but shake a clout at 
him to make him turn and gore. Bide wi’ him, say ye ? — 
Troth, I kenna what for I bide wi’ him mysell. But the lad’s 20 
no a bad lad after a’ ; and he needs some carefu’ body to look 
after him. He hasna the right grip o’ his hand — the gowd 
slips through’t like water, man ; and it’s no that ill a thing 
to be near him when his purse is in his hand, and it’s seldom 
out o’t. And then he’s come o’ guid kith and kin — My 25 
heart warms to the poor thoughtless callant, Mr. Hammor- 
gaw — and then the penny fee” — 

In the latter part of this instructive communication Mr. 
Fairservice lowered his voice to a tone better beseeming 
the conversation in a place of public resort on a Sabbath 30 
evening, and his companion and he were soon beyond my 
hearing. 

Evening had now closed, and the growing darkness gave 


196 


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to the broad, still, and deep expanse of the brimful river, 
first a hue somber and uniform — then a dismal and turbid 
appearance partially lighted by a waning and pallid moon. 
The massive and ancient bridge which stretches across 
5 the Clyde was now but dimly visible, and resembled that 
which Mirza,° in his unequaled vision, has described as 
traversing the valley of Bagdad. The low-browed arches, 
seen as imperfectly as the dusky current which they bestrode, 
seemed rather caverns which swallowed up the gloomy waters 
io of the river, than apertures contrived for their passage. 
As the night advanced my impatience at the uncertainty of 
the situation in which I was placed increased every moment, 
and became nearly ungovernable. I began to question 
whether I had been imposed upon by the trick of a fool, the 
15 raving of a madman, or the studied machinations of a vil- 
lain, and paced the little quay or pier adjoining the entrance 
to the bridge, in a state of incredible anxiety and vexation. 

At length the hour of twelve o’clock swung its summons 
over the city from the belfry of the metropolitan church of 
20 St. Mungo, and was anwered and vouched by all the others 
like dutiful diocesans. The echoes had scarcely ceased to 
repeat the last sound, when a human form — the first I had 
seen for two hours — appeared passing along the bridge 
from the southern shore of the river. I advanced to meet 
25 him with a feeling as if my fate depended on the result of the 
interview, so much had my anxiety been wound up by pro- 
tracted expectation. All that I could remark of the passenger 
as we advanced toward each other, was that his frame was 
rather beneath than above the middle size, but apparently 
30 strong, thickset, and muscular ; his dress a horseman’s wrap- 
ping coat. I slackened my pace, and almost paused as I 
advanced in expectation that he would address me. But, 
to my inexpressible disappointment, he passed without 


ROB ROY 


197 


speaking, and I had no pretense for being the first to address 
one who, notwithstanding his appearance at the very hour 
of appointment, might nevertheless be an absolute stranger. 

I stopped when he had passed me, and looked after him, un- 
certain whether I ought not to follow him. The stranger 5 
walked on till near the northern end of the bridge, then paused, 
looked back, and turning round, again advanced toward me. 

I resolved that this time he should not have the apology 
for silence proper to apparitions, who, it is vulgarly supposed, 
cannot speak until they are spoken to. “You walk late, 10 
sir,” said I, as we met a second time. 

“I bide tryste,” was the reply; “and so I think do you, 
Mr. Osbaldistone.” 

“You are then the person who requested to meet me here 
at this unusual hour ? ” 15 

“I am,” he replied. “Follow me, and you shall know my 
reasons.” 

“Before following you, I must know your name and pur- 
pose,” I answered. 

“I am a man,” was the reply ; “and my purpose is friendly 20 
to you.” 

“A man ! ” I repeated ; — “that is a very brief description.” 

“It will serve for one who has no other to give,” said the 
stranger. “He that is without name, without friends, with- 
out coin, without country, is still at least a man; and he 25 
that has all these is no more.” 

“Yet this is still too general an account of yourself, to 
say the least of it, to establish your credit with a stranger.” 

“It is all I mean to give, howsoe’er; you may choose to 
follow me,° or to remain without the information I desire 30 
to afford you.” 

“Can you not give me that information here?” I de- 
manded. 


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“You must receive it from your eyes, not from my tongue — 
you must follow me, or remain in ignorance of the information 
which I have to give you.” 

There was something short, determined, and even stern, 
5 in the man’s manner, not certainly well calculated to conciliate 
undoubting confidence. 

“What is it you fear?” he said impatiently. “To whom, 
think ye, is your life of such consequence, that they should 
seek to bereave ye of it ? ” 

io “I fear nothing,” I replied firmly, though somewhat 
hastily. “Walk on — I attend you.” 

We proceeded, contrary to my expectation, to re-enter 
the town, and glided like mute specters, side by side, up its 
empty and silent streets. The high and gloomy stone fronts, 

1 5 with the variegated ornaments and pediments of the windows, 
looked yet taller and more sable by the imperfect moonshine. 
Our walk was for some minutes in perfect silence. At length 
my conductor spoke. 

“Are you afraid?” 

20 “I retort your own words,” I replied: “wherefore should 
I fear?” 

“Because you are with a stranger — perhaps an enemy, in 
a place where you have no friends and many enemies.” 

“I neither fear you nor them; I am young, active, and 

25 armed.” 

“I am not armed,” replied my conductor ; “but no matter, 
a willing hand never lacked weapon. You say you fear 
nothing ; but if you knew who was by your side, perhaps you 
might underlie a tremor.” 

30 “And why should I?” replied I. “I again repeat, I fear 
nought that you can do.” 

“Nought that I can do? — Be it so. But do you not 
fear the consequences of being found with one whose very 


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199 


name whispered in this lonely street would make the stones 
themselves rise up to apprehend him — on whose head half 
the men in Glasgow would build their fortune as on a found 
treasure, had they the luck to grip him by the collar — the 
sound of whose apprehension were as welcome at the Cross 5 
of Edinburgh 0 as ever the news of a field stricken and won in 
Flanders?” 

“And who then are you, whose name should create so deep 
a feeling of terror?” I replied. 

“No enemy of yours, since I am conveying you to a place, 10 
where, were I myself recognized and identified, iron to the 
heels and hemp to the craig would be my brief dooming.” 

I paused and stood still on the pavement, drawing back 
so as to have the most perfect view of my companion which 
the light afforded me, and which was sufficient to guard against 15 
any sudden motion of assault. 

“You have said,” I answered, “either too much or too 
little — too much to induce me to confide in you as a mere 
stranger, since you avow yourself a person amenable to the 
laws of the country in which we are — and too little, unless 20 
you could show that you are unjustly subjected to their 
rigor.” 

As I ceased to speak, he made a step toward me. I drew 
back instinctively, and laid my hand on the hilt of my sword. 

“What!” said he — “on an unarmed man and your 25 
friend ? ” 

“lam yet ignorant if you are either the one or the other,” 

I replied; “and to say the truth your language and manner 
might well entitle me to doubt both.” 

“It is manfully spoken,” replied my conductor; “and I 30 
respect him whose hand can keep his head. — I will be frank 
and free with you — I am conveying you to prison.” 

“To prison!” I exclaimed — “by what warrant or for 


200 


ROB ROY 


what offense? — You shall have my life sooner than my 
liberty — I defy you, and I will not follow you a step farther.” 

“I do not,” he said, “carry you there as a prisoner; I 
am,” he added, drawing himself haughtily up, “neither a 
5 messenger nor sheriff’s officer. I carry you to see a prisoner 
from whose lips you will learn the risk in which you presently 
stand. Your liberty is little risked by the visit; mine is in 
some peril; but that I readily encounter on your account, 
for I care not for risk, and I love a free young blood, that 
io kens no protector but the cross o’ the sword.” 

While he spoke thus, we had reached the principal street, 
and were pausing before a large building of hewn stone, gar- 
nished, as I thought I could perceive, with gratings of iron 
before the windows. 

15 “Muckle,” said the stranger, whose language became 
more broadly national as he assumed a tone of colloquial 
freedom — “Muckle wad the provost and bailies o’ Glasgow 
gie to hae him sitting with iron garters to his hose within 
their tolbooth that now stands wi’ his legs as free as the red- 
20 deer’s on the outside on’t. And little wad it avail them ; 
for an if they had me there wi’ a stane’s weight 0 o’ iron at 
every ankle, I would show them a toom room and a lost lodger 
before to-morrow — But come on, what stint ye for?” 

As he spoke thus, he tapped at a low wicket, and was 
25 answered by a sharp voice, as of one aw r akened from a dream 
or reverie, — “Fa’s tat? — Wha’s that, I wad say? — and 
fat a deil want ye at this hour at e’en ? — Clean again rules — 
clean again rules, as they ca’ them.” 

The protracted tone in which the last words were uttered, 
30 betokened that the speaker was again composing himself 
to slumber. But my guide spoke in a loud whisper — “Dou- 
gal, man! hae ye forgotten Ha nun Gregarach?” 

“Deil a bit, deil a bit,” was the ready and lively response, 


ROB ROY 


201 


and I heard the internal guardian of the prison-gate bustle 
up with great alacrity. A few words were exchanged between 
my conductor and the turnkey in a language to which I was 
an absolute stranger. The bolts revolved, but with a cau- 
tion which marked the apprehension that the noise might 5 
be overheard, and we stood within the vestibule of the prison 
of Glasgow, one of the legal fortresses of Scotland. 








CHAPTER XXII 


Look round thee, young Astolpho : Here’s the place 
Which men (for being poor) are sent to starve in ; 

Rude remedy, I trow, for sore disease. 

Within these walls, stifled by damp and stench, 

Doth Hope’s fair torch expire ; and at the snuff, 

Ere yet, ’tis quite extinct, rude, wild, and wayward, 

The desperate revelries of wild despair, 

Kindling their hell-born cressets, light to deeds 
That the poor captive would have died ere practised, 

Till bondage sunk his soul to his condition. 

The Prison,® Scene III , Act I. 

The turnkey was a wild, shock-headed looking animal 
whose profusion of red hair covered and obscured his features 
which were otherwise only characterized by the extravagant 
joy that affected him at the sight of my guide. In my experi- 
5 ence I have met nothing so absolutely resembling my idea 
of a very uncouth, wild, and ugly savage, adoring the idol 
of his tribe. He grinned, he shivered, he laughed, he was 
near crying, if he did not actually cry. He had a “Where 
shall I go? — What can I do for you?” expression of face; 
io the complete, surrendered, and anxious subservience and 
devotion of which it is difficult to describe, otherwise than 
by the awkward combination which I have attempted. The 
fellow’s voice seemed choking in his ecstasy, and only could 
express itself in such interjections as “Oigh! oigh ! — Ay! 
is ay! — it’s lang since she’s seen ye!” and other exclamations 
equally brief, expressed in the same unknown tongue in 

202 


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203 


which he had communicated with my Conductor while we 
were on the outside of the jail door. My guide received 
all this excess of joyful gratulation much like a prince too 
early accustomed to the homage of those around him to be 
much moved by it, yet willing to requite it by the usual 5 
forms of royal courtesy. He extended his hand graciously 
toward the turnkey, with a civil inquiry of “How’s a’ wi’ you, 
Dougal?” 

“Oigh! oigh!” exclaimed Dougal, softening the sharp 
exclamations of his surprise as he looked around with an 10 
eye of watchful alarm — “Oigh! to see you here — to see 
you here ! — Oigh ! — what will come o’ ye gin the bailies 
suld come to get witting — ta filthy, gutty hallions, tat 
they are?” 

My guide placed his finger on his lip, and said, “Fear 15 
nothing, Dougal; your hands shall never draw a bolt on 
me.” 

“Tat sail they no,” said Dougal; “she suld — she wad — 
that is, she 'wishes them hacked aff by the elbows first — 
But when are ye gaun yonder again? and ye’ll no forget to 20 
let her ken — she’s your puir cousin, God kens, only seven 
times removed.” 

. “I will let you ken, Dougal, as soon as my plans are 
settled.” 

“And, by her sooth, when you do, an it were twal o’ the 25 
Sunday at e’en, she’ll fling her keys at the provost’s head or 
she gie them anither turn, and that or ever Monday morn- 
ing begins — see if she winna.” 

My mysterious stranger cut his acquaintance’s, ecstasies 
short by again addressing him, in what I afterward under- 3 0 
stood to be the Irish, Earse, or Gaelic, 0 explaining, probably, 
the services which he required at his hand. The answer, 
“Wi’ a’ her heart — wi’ a’ her soul,” with a good deal of 


204 


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indistinct muttering in a similar tone, intimated the turnkey’s 
acquiescence in what he proposed. The fellow trimmed 
his dying lamp, and made a sign to me to follow him. 

“Do you not go with us?” said I, looking to my conductor. 

5 “It is unnecessary,” he replied; “my company may be 
inconvenient for you, and I had better remain to secure our 
retreat.” 

“I do not suppose you mean to betray me to danger,” said I. 

“To none but what I partake in doubly,” answered the 
io stranger, with a voice of assurance which it was impossible 
to mistrust. 

I followed the turnkey, who, leaving the inner wicket un- 
locked behind him, led me up to a turnpike (so the Scotch 
call a winding stair), then along a narrow gallery — then 
1 5 opening one of several doors which led into the passage, he 
ushered me into a small apartment, and casting his eye on 
the pallet-bed which occupied one corner, said with an under 
voice, as he placed the lamp on a little deal table, “She’s 
sleeping.” 

20 “She ! — who? — can it be Diana Vernon in this abode of 
misery?” 

I turned my eye to the bed, and it was with a mixture of 
disappointment oddly mingled with pleasure, that I saw my 
first suspicion had deceived me. I saw a head neither young 
25 nor beautiful, garnished with a grey beard of two days’ 
growth, and accommodated with a red nightcap. The 
first glance put me at ease on the score of Diana Vernon ; the 
second, as the slumberer awoke from a heavy sleep, yawned, 
and rubbed his eyes, presented me with features very dif- 
30 ferent indeed — even those of my poor friend Owen. 

It was some time before I could prevail upon the unfortu- 
nate sleeper awakening to recognize me; and when he did 
so, the distress of the worthy creature was extreme, at suppos- 


ROB ROY 


205 


ing, which he naturally did, that I had been sent thither 
as a partner of his captivity. 

“0 Mr. Frank, what have you brought yourself and the 
house to ? — I think nothing of myself, that am a mere 
cipher, so to speak ; but you, that was your father’s sum- 5 
total — his omnium, — you that might have been the first 
man in the first house in the first city, to be shut up in a nasty 
Scotch jail, where one cannot even get the dirt brushed off 
their clothes ! ” 

He rubbed, with an air of peevish irritation, the once 10 
stainless brown coat, which had now shared some of the 
impurities of the floor of his prison-house, — his habits of 
extreme punctilious neatness acting mechanically to increase 
his distress. — “O Heaven be gracious to us !” he continued. 
“What news this will be on ’Change! There has not the 15 
like come there since the battle of Almanza, 0 where the total 
of the British loss was summed up to five thousand killed 
and wounded, besides a floating balance of missing — but 
what will that be to the news that Osbaldistone and Tresham 
have stopped ! ” 20 

I broke in on his lamentations to acquaint him that I was 
no prisoner, though scarce able to account for my being in 
that place at such an hour. I could only silence his inquiries 
by persisting in those which his own situation suggested; 
and at length obtained from him such information as he was 25 
able to give me. 

Owen had been received at Messrs. MacVittie and Mac- 
Fin’s counting-house in the Gallowgate, with something 
like the devotion a Catholic would pay to his tutelar saint. 
But, alas! this sunshine was soon overclouded, when, en-30 
couraged by the fair hopes which it inspired, he opened the 
difficulties of the house to his friendly correspondents and 
requested their counsel and assistance. They met Mr. 


206 


ROB ROY 


Owen’s request of countenance and assistance with a counter- 
demand of instant security against imminent hazard of 
eventual loss; and at length, made his small share in the 
business a pretext for arrest and imprisonment which it 
5 seems the law of Scotland (therein surely liable to much 
abuse) allows to a creditor, who finds his conscience at liberty 
to make oath that the debtor meditates departing from the 
realm. Under such a warrant had poor Owen been confined 
to durance on the day preceding that when I was so strangely 
io guided to his prison-house. 

In this dilemma, I asked Owen if he had not thought 
of having recourse to my father’s other correspondent in 
Glasgow, Mr. Nicol Jarvie? 

“He had sent him a letter,” he replied, “that morning; 
15 but if the smooth-tongued and civil house in the Gallo wgate 
had used him thus, what was to be expected from the cross- 
grained crab-stock in the Salt-Market. 0 You might as 
well ask a broker to give up his percentage, as expect a favor 
from him without the per contra . 0 He had not even,” Owen 
20 said, “answered his letter, though it was put into his hand 
that morning as he went to church.” And here the despair- 
ing man-of-figures threw himself down on his pallet, exclaim- 
ing, — “My poor dear master ! My poor dear master ! O 
Mr. Frank, Mr. Frank, this is all your obstinacy! — But God 
25 forgive me for saying so to you in your distress ! It’s God’s 
disposing, and man must submit.” 

My philosophy, Tresham, could not prevent my sharing 
in the honest creature’s distress, and we mingled our tears, — 
the more bitter on my part, as the perverse opposition to 
30 my father’s will, with which the kind-hearted Owen forbore 
to upbraid me, rose up to my conscience as the cause of all 
this affliction. 

In the midst of our mingled sorrow, we were disturbed 


ROB ROY 


207 


and surprised by a loud knocking at the outward door of the 
prison. I ran to the top of the staircase to listen, but could 
only hear the voice of the turnkey, alternately in a high tone, 
answering to some person without, and in a whisper, addressed 
to the person who had guided me hither — “She’s comings 
— she’s coming,” aloud; then in a low key, “O hon-a-ri ! O 
hon-a-ri ! what’ll she do now ? — Gang up ta stair, and hide 
yoursell ahint ta Sassenach shentleman’s ped. — She’s 
coming as fast as she can. — Ahellanay ! it’s my lord provosts, 
and ta pailies, and ta guard — and ta captain’s coming toon io 
stairs too — Got pless her ! gang up or he meets her. — She’s 
coming — she’s coming — ta lock’s sair roosted.” 

While Dougal, unwillingly, and with as much delay as 
possible, undid the various fastenings to give admittance to 
those without, whose impatience became clamorous, my 15 
guide ascended the winding stair, and sprang into Owen’s 
apartment, into which I followed him. He cast his eyes 
hastily round, as if looking for a place of concealment ; then 
said to me, “Lend me your pistols — yet it’s no matter, I 
can do without them — Whatever you see, take no heed, 20 
and do not mix your hand in another man’s feud — This fear’s 
mine, and I must manage it as I dow; but I have been as 
hard bested, and worse, than I am even now.” 

As the stranger spoke these words, he stripped from his 
person the cumbrous upper coat in which he was wrapt, 25 
confronted the door of the apartment, on which he fixed 
a keen and determined glance, drawing his person a little 
back to concentrate his force, like a fine horse brought up 
to the leaping-bar. I had not a moment’s doubt that he 
meant to extricate himself from his embarrassment, whatever 30 
might be the cause of it, by springing full upon those who 
should appear when the doors opened, and forcing his way 
through all opposition into the street ; — and such was 


208 


ROB ROY 


the appearance of strength and agility displayed in his frame, 
and of determination *in his look and manner, that I did not 
doubt a moment but that he might get clear through his 
opponents, unless they employed fatal means to stop his 
5 purpose. 

It was a period of awful suspense betwixt the opening of 
the outward gate and that of the door of the apartment, when 
there appeared — no guard with bayonets fixed, or watch 
with clubs, bills, or partisans, but a good-looking young 
io woman with grogram petticoats, tucked up for trudging 
through the streets, and holding a lantern in her hand. This 
female ushered in a more important personage, in form, 
stout, short, and somewhat corpulent; and by dignity, as it 
soon appeared, a magistrate, bob-wigged, bustling, and 
is breathless with peevish impatience. My conductor, at 
his appearance, drew back as if to escape observation; but 
he could not elude the penetrating twinkle with which this 
dignitary reconnoitered the whole apartment. 

“A bonny thing it is, and a beseeming, that I should be 
20 kept at the door half an hour, Captain Stanchells,” said he, 
addressing the principal jailor, who now showed himself 
at the door as if in attendance on the great man, “knocking 
as hard to get into the tolbooth as onybody else wad to get 
out of it, could that avail them, poor fallen creatures ! — 
25 And how’s this? — strangers in the jail after lock-up hours, 
and on the Sabbath evening ! — I shall look after this, Stan- 
chells, you may depend on’t — Keep the door locked, and 
I’ll speak to these gentlemen in a gliffing — But first I maun 
hae a crack wi’ an auld acquaintance here. — Mr. Owen, Mr. 
30 Owen, how’s a’ wi’ ye, man ? ” 

“Pretty well in body, I thank you, Mr. Jarvie,” drawled 
out poor Owen, “but sore afflicted in spirit.” 

“Nae doubt, nae doubt — ay, ay — it’s an awfu’ whummle 


ROB ROY 


209 


— and for ane that held his head sae high too — human 
nature, human nature. — Ay ay, we’re a’ subject to a down- 
come. Mr. Osbaldistone'is a gude honest gentleman; but 
I aye said he was ane o’ them wad make a spune or spoil a 
horn, as my father the worthy deacon used to say. The 5 
deacon used to say to me, ‘Nick — young Nick’ (his name 
was Nicol as weel as mine; sae folk ca’d us in their daffin’, 
young Nick and auld Nick) — ‘Nick’ said he, ‘never put 
out your arm farther than ye can draw it easily back again.’ 

I hae said sae to Mr. Osbaldistone, and he didna seem to take 10 
it a’ thegither sae kind as I wished — but it was weel meant 

— weel meant.” 

This discourse, delivered with prodigious volubility, and 
a great appearance of self-complacency, as he recollected 
his own advice and predictions, gave little promise of assist- 15 
ance at the hands of Mr. Jarvie. Yet it soon appeared rather 
to proceed from a total want of delicacy than any deficiency 
of real kindness ; for when Owen expressed himself somewhat 
hurt that these things should be recalled to memory in his 
present situation, the Glaswegian took him by the hand, 20 
and bade him “Cheer ‘up a gliff! D’ye think I wad hae 
corned out at twal o’clock at night, and amaist broken the 
Lord’s day, just to tell a fa’en man o’ his backslidings ? Na, 
na, that’s no Bailie Jarvie’s gate, nor was’t his worthy father’s 
the deacon afore him. Why man ! it’s my rule never to think 25 
on warldly business on the Sabbath, and though I did a’ I 
could to keep your note that I gat this morning out o’ my 
head, yet I thought mair on it a’ day, than on the preaching 

— And it’s my rule to gang to my bed wi’ the yellow curtains 
preceesely at ten o’clock — unless I were eating a haddock 30 
wi’ a neighbor, or a neighbor wi’ me — ask the lass-quean 
there, if it isna a fundamental rule in my household; and 
here hae I sitten up reading gude books, and gaping as if I 

p 


210 


ROB ROY 


wad swallow St. Enoch’s Kirk, till it chappit twal, whilk 
was a lawfu’ hour to gie a look at my ledger, just to see how 
things stood between us ; and then, as time and tide wait for 
no man, I made the lass get the lantern, and came slipping 
5 my ways here to see what can be dune anent your affairs. 
Bailie Jarvie can command entrance into the tolbooth at 
ony hour, day or night ; — sae could my father the deacon 
in his time, honest man, praise to his memory.” 

Although Owen groaned at the mention of the ledger, 
io leading me grievously to fear that here also the balance stood 
in the wrong column ; and although the worthy magistrate’s 
speech expressed much self-complacency, and some ominous 
triumph in his own superior judgment, yet it was blended 
with a sort of frank and blunt good-nature, from which I 
15 could not help deriving some hopes. He requested to see 
some papers he mentioned, snatched them hastily from Owen’s 
hand, and sitting on the bed, to “rest his shanks,” as he was 
pleased to express the accommodation which that posture 
afforded him, his servant girl held up the lantern to him, 
20 while, pshawing, muttering, and sputtering, now at the 
imperfect light, now at the contents of the packet, he ran 
over the writings it contained. 

Seeing him fairly engaged in this course of study, the guide 
who had brought me hither seemed disposed to take an un- 
25 ceremonious leave. He made a sign to me to say nothing, 
and intimated, by his change of posture, an intention to 
glide toward the door in such a manner as to attract the 
least possible observation. But the alert magistrate (very 
different from my old acquaintance, Mr. Justice Inglewood) 
30 instantly detected and interrupted his purposes. “I say, 
look to the door, Stanchells — shut and lock it, and keep 
watch on the outside.” 

The stranger’s brow darkened, and he seemed for an instant 


ROB ROY 


211 


again to meditate the effecting his retreat by violence; but 
ere he had determined, the door closed, and the ponderous 
bolt revolved. He muttered an exclamation in Gaelic, strode 
across the floor, and then, with an air of dogged resolution, 
as if fixed and prepared to see the scene to an end, sate himself 5 
down on the oak table, and whistled a strathspey. 

Mr. Jarvie, who seemed very alert and expeditious in going 
through business, soon showed himself master of that which 
he had been considering, and addressed himself to Mr. Owen 
in the following strain: — “Weel, Mr. Owen, weel — your io 
house are awin’ certain sums to Messrs. MacVittie and 
MacFin (shame fa’ their souple snouts ! they made that and 
mair out o’ a bargain about the aik-woods at Glen-Cailzie- 
chat, that they took out atween my teeth — wi’ help o’ 
your gude word, I maun needs say, Mr. Owen — but that 15 
makes nae odds now) — Weel, sir, your house aws them this 
siller; and for this, and relief of other engagements they 
stand in for you, they hae putten a double turn o’ Stanchells’ 
muckle key on ye. — Weel, sir, ye awe this siller — and maybe 
ye awe some mair to some other body too — maybe ye awe 20 
some to myself. Bailie Nicol Jarvie.” 

“I cannot deny, sir, but the balance may of this date be 
brought out against us, Mr. Jarvie,” said Owen; “but 
you’ll please to consider” — 

“I hae nae time to consider e’enow, Mr. Owen — Sae near 25 
Sabbath at e’en, and out o’ ane’s warm bed at this time o’ 
night, and a sort o’ drow in the air besides — there’s nae 
time for considering — But, sir, as I was saying, ye awe me 
money — it winna deny — ye awe me money, less or mair, 
I’ll stand by it. But then, Mr. Owen, I canna see how you, 30 
an active man that understands business, can redd out the 
business ye’re come down about, and clear us a’ aff — as I 
have gritt hope ye will — if ye’re keepit lying here in the 


212 


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tolbooth of Glasgow. Now, sir, if you can find caution 
judicio sisti,° — that is, that ye winna flee the country, 
but appear and relieve your caution when ca’d for in 
our legal courts, ye may be set at liberty this very 
5 morning.” 

“Mr. Jar vie/’ said Owen, “if any friend would become 
surety for me to that effect, my liberty might be usefully 
employed, doubtless, both for the house and all connected 
with it.” 

io “Aweel, sir,” continued Jarvie, “and doubtless such a 
friend wad expect ye to appear when ca’d on, and relieve 
him o’ his engagement.” 

“And I should do so as certainly, bating sickness or death, 
as that two and two make four.” 
is “Aweel, Mr. Owen,” resumed the citizen of Glasgow, “I 
dinna misdoubt ye, and I’ll prove it, sir — I’ll prove it. I 
am a carefu’ man, as is weel ken’d, and industrious, as the 
hale town can testify; and I can win my crowns, and keep 
my crowns, and count my crowns, wi’ onybody in the Saut 
20 Market, or it may be in the Gallowgate. And I’m a prudent 
man, as my father the deacon was before me ; — but rather 
than an honest civil gentleman, that understands business, 
and is willing to do justice to all men, should lie by the 
heels this gate, unable to help himsell or onybody else 
25 — why, conscience, man! I’ll be your bail myself — 
But ye’ll mind it’s a bail judicio sisti, as our town- 
clerk says, not judicatum solvi;° ye’ll mind that, for 
there’s muckle difference.” 

Mr. Owen assured him, that as matters then stood, he 
30 could not expect any one to become surety for the actual 
payment of the debt, but that there was not the most dis- 
tant cause for apprehending loss from his failing to present 
himself when lawfully called upon. 


ROB ROY 


213 


“I believe ye — I believe ye. Eneugh said — eneugh said. 
We’se hae your legs loose by breakfast-time. — And now 
let’s hear what thir chamber chiels o’ yours hae to say for 
themselves, or how, in the name of unrule, they got here at 
this time o’ night.” 


5 


CHAPTER XXIII 

Hame came our gudeman at e’en, 

And hame came he, 

And there he saw a man 
Where a man suldna be. 

“How’s this now, kimmer? 

How’s this?” quo he, — 

“How came this carle here 
Without the leave o’ me?” 

Old Song. 

The magistrate took the light out of the servant-maids’ 
hand, and advanced to his scrutiny, like Diogenes 0 in the 
street of Athens, lantern-in-hand, and probably with as little 
expectation as that of the cynic, that he was likely to en- 
5 counter any especial treasure in the course of his researches. 
The first whom he approached was my mysterious guide, 
who, seated on a table as I have already described him, with 
his eyes firmly fixed on the wall, his features arranged into 
the utmost inflexibility of expression, his hands folded on 
io his breast with an air betwixt carelessness and defiance, his 
heel patting against the foot of the table, to keep time with 
the tune which he continued to whistle, submitted to Mr. 
Jarvie’s investigation with an air of absolute confidence and 
assurance which, for a moment, placed at fault the memory 
is and sagacity of the acute investigator. 

“Ah ! — Eh ! — Oh ! ” exclaimed the Bailie. “My con- 
science ! — it’s impossible ! — and yet — no ! — Conscience ! 
— it canna be ! — and yet again — Deil hae me, that I suld 
say sae ! Ye robber — • ye cateran — ye born deevil that 

214 


ROB ROY 


215 


ye are, to a’ bad ends and nae gude ane ! — can this be 
you?” 

“E’en as ye see, Bailie,” was the laconic answer. 

“Conscience! if I am na clean bumbaized — you, yecheat- 
the-wuddy rogue — you here on your venture in the tolbooth 5 
o’ Glasgow? — What d’ye think’s the value o’ your head?” 

“Umph! — why, fairly weighed, and Dutch weight, it 
might weigh down one provost’s, four bailies’, a town-clerk’s, 
six deacons’, besides stent-masters’” 

“Ah, ye reiving villain!” interrupted Mr. Jarvie. “But 10 
tell ower your sins, and prepare ye, for if I say the word” 

“True, Bailie,” said he who was thus addressed, folding 
his hands behind him with the utmost nonchalance, “but 
ye will never say that word.” 

“And why suld I not, sir?” exclaimed the magistrate — 15 
“Why suld I not ? Answer me that — why suld I not ? ” 

“For three sufficient reasons, Bailie Jarvie. — First, for 
auld langsyne; second, for the sake of the auld wife ayont 
the fire at Stuckavrallachan, that made some mixture of our 
bluids, to my own proper shame be it spoken ! that has a 20 
cousin wi’ accounts, and yarn winnles, and looms and shuttles, 
like a mere mechanical person; and lastly, Bailie, because 
if I saw a sign o’ your betraying me, I would plaster that wa’ 
with your harns ere the hand of man could rescue you ! ” 

“Ye’re a bauld desperate villain, sir,” retorted the un- 25 
daunted Bailie; “and ye ken that I ken ye to be sae, and 
that I wadna stand a moment for my ain risk.” 

“I ken weel,” said the other, “ye hae gentle bluid in your 
veins, and I wad be laith to hurt my ain kinsman. But I’ll 
gang out here as free as I came in, or the very wa’s o’ Glas- 30 
gow tolbooth shall tell o’t these ten years to come.” 

“Weel, weel,” said Mr. Jarvie, “bluid’s thicker than 
water; and it liesna in kith, kin, and ally, to see motes in 


216 


ROB ROY 


ilka other’s een if other een see them no. It wad be sair 
news the auld wife below the Ben of Stuckavrallachan, that 
you, ye Hieland limmer, had knockit out my harns, or that 
I had kilted you up in a tow. But ye’ll own, ye dour deevil, 
5 that were it no your very sell, I wad hae grippit the best man 
in the Hielands.” 

“Ye wad hae tried, cousin,” answered my guide, “that 
I wot weel ; but I doubt ye wad hae come aff wi’ the short 
measure ; for we gang-there-out Hieland bodies are an 
io unchancy generation when you speak to us o’ bondage. We 
downa bide the coercion of gude braid-claith about our 
hinderlans, let a be breeks o’ free-stone, and garters o’ iron.” 

“Ye’ll find the stane breeks and the airn garters — ay, 
and the hemp cravat, for a’ that, neighbor,” replied the Bailie. 
15 “Nae man in a civilized country ever played the pliskies 
ye hae done — but e’en pickle in your ain pock-neuk — I 
hae gi’en ye warning.” 

“Well, cousin,” said the other, “ye’ll wear black at my 
burial.” * 

20 “Deil a black cloak will be there, Robin, but the corbies 
and the hoodie-craws, I’se gie ye my hand on that. But 
whar’s the gude thousand pund Scots that I lent ye, man, and 
when am I to see it again?” 

“Where it is,” replied my guide, after the affectation of 
25 considering for a moment, “I cannot justly tell — probably 
where last year’s snaw is.” 

“And that’s on the tap of Schehallion, 0 ye Hieland dog,” 
said Mr. Jarvie; “and I look for payment frae you where 
ye stand.” 

30 “Ay,” replied the Highlander, “but I keep neither snaw 

nor dollars in my sporran. And as to when you’ll see it — 
why, just when the king enjoys his ain again, as the auld 
sang says.” 


ROB x ROY 


217 


“Warst of a’, Robin/’ retorted the Glaswegian, — “I 
mean, ye disloyal traitor — Warst of a’ ! — Wad ye bring 
popery in on us, and arbitrary power, and a foist and a 
warming-pan, 0 and the set forms, and the curates, and the 
auld enormities o’ surplices and cerements? Ye had betters 
stick to your auld trade o’ theft-boot, black-mail, spreaghs, 
and gillravaging — better stealing nowte than ruining 
nations.” 

“Hout, man — whisht wi’ your whiggery,” answered 
the Celt; “we has ken’d ane anither mony a lang day. I’se io 
take care your counting-room is no cleaned out when the 
Gillon-a-naillie * come to redd up the Glasgow buiths, and 
clear them o’ their auld shop-wares. And, unless it just fa’ 
in the preceese way o’ your duty, ye maunna see me oftener, 
Nicol, than I am disposed to be seen.” 15 

“Ye are a dauring villain, Rob,” answered the Bailie ; “and 
ye will be hanged, that will be seen and heard o’; but I’se 
ne’er be the ill bird and foul my nest, set apart strong neces- 
sity and the skreigh of duty, which no man should hear and 
be inobedient. And wha the deevil’s this?” he continued, 20 
turning to me — “Some gillravager that ye hae listed, I daur 
say. He looks as if he had a bauld heart to the highway, 
and a lang craig for the gibbet.” 

“This, good Mr. Jarvie,” said Owen, who, like myself, 
had been struck dumb during this strange recognition, and 25 
no less strange dialogue, which took place betwixt these 
extraordinary kinsmen — “This, good Mr. Jarvie, is young 
Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, only child of the head of our house, 
who should have been taken into our firm at the time Mr. 
Rashleigh Osbaldistone, his cousin, had the luck to be taken 30 
into it” — (Here Owen could not suppress a groan) — “But 
howsoever” 

* The lads with the kilts or petticoats. 


218 


ROB ROY 


“Oh, I have heard of that smaik,” said the Scotch mer- 
chant, interrupting him; “it is he whom your principal, like 
an obstinate auld fule, wad make a merchant o’, wad he or 
wad he no, — and the lad turned a strolling stage-player, 
5 in pure dislike to the labor an honest man should live by. 
Weel, sir, what say you to your handiwark? Will Hamlet 
the Dane, or Hamlet’s ghost, be good security for Mr. Owen, 
sir ? ” 

“I don’t deserve your taunt,” I replied, “though I respect 
i o your motive, and am too grateful for the assistance you have 
afforded Mr. Owen, to resent it. My only business here was 
to do what I could (it is perhaps very little) to aid Mr. Owen 
in the management of my father’s affairs. My dislike of the 
commercial profession is a feeling of which I am the best 
15 and sole judge.” 

“I protest,” said the Highlander, “I had some respect for 
this callant even before I ken’d what was in him ; but now I 
honor him for his contempt of weavers and spinners, and sic- 
like mechanical persons and their pursuits.” 

20 “Ye’re mad, Rob,” said the Bailie — “mad as a March 
hare — • though wherefore a hare suld be mad at March 
mair than at Martinmas, 0 is mair than I can weel say. Weav- 
ers ! Deil shake ye out o’ the web the weaver craft made. 
Spinners! ye’ll spin and wind yoursell a bonny pirn. And 
25 this young birkie here, that ye’re hoying and hounding 
on the shortest road to the gallows and the deevil, will his 
stage-plays and his poetries help him here, d’ye think, ony 
mair than your deep oaths and drawn dirks, ye reprobate 
that ye are? — Will Tityre tu patulcc, 0 as they ca’ it, tell him 
30 where Rashleigh Osbaldistone is? or Macbeth, and all his 
kernes and galla-glasses, and your awn to boot, Rob, procure 
him five thousand pounds to answer the bills which fall due 
ten days hence, were they a’ rouped at the Cross, — basket- 


ROB ROY 


219 


hilts, Andra-Ferraras, leather targets, brogues, brochan, and 
sporrans?” 

“Ten days,” I answered, and instinctively drew out Diana 
Vernon’s packet; and the time being elapsed during which 
I was to keep the seal sacred, I hastily broke it open. A sealed 5 
letter fell from a blank enclosure, owing to the trepidation 
with which I opened the parcel. A slight current of wind, 
which found its way through a broken pane of the window, 
wafted the letter to Mr. Jarvie’s feet, who lifted it, examined 
the address with unceremonious curiosity, and, to my aston- 10 
ishment, handed it to his Highland kinsman, saying, “Here’s 
a wind has blown a letter to its right owner, though there 
was ten thousand chances against its coming to hand.” 

The Highlander, having examined the address, broke 
the letter open without the least ceremony. I endeavored 15 
to interrupt his proceeding. 

“You must satisfy me, sir,” said I, “that the letter is 
intended for you before I can permit you to peruse it.” 

“Make yourself quite easy, Mr. Osbaldistone,” replied 
the mountaineer with great composure; — “remember Jus- 20 
tice Inglewood, Clerk Jobson, Mr. Morris — above all, 
remember your vera humble servant, Robert Cawmil, and 
the beautiful Diana Vernon. Remember all this, and doubt 
no longer that the letter is for me.” 

Now the light dawned on me; this man was Campbell 25 
himself. His whole peculiarities flashed on me at once, — 
the deep strong voice — the inflexible, stern, yet considerate 
cast of features — the Scottish brogue, with its correspond- 
ing dialect and imagery, which, although he possessed the 
power at times of laying them aside, recurred at every moment 30 
of emotion, and gave pith to his sarcasm, or vehemence to 
his expostulation. Rather beneath the middle size than 
above it, his limbs were formed upon the very strongest 


220 


ROB ROY 


model that is consistent with agility, while from the remark- 
able ease and freedom of his movements, you could not doubt 
his possessing the latter quality in a high degree of perfection. 
His shoulders were broad in proportion to his height, 
5 and his arms, though round, sinewy, and strong, were so 
very long as to be rather a deformity. I afterward heard 
that this length of arm was a circumstance on which he prided 
himself ; that when he wore his native Highland garb, he 
could tie the garters of his hose without stooping; and that 
io it gave him great advantage in the use of the broad-sword, 
at which he was very dexterous. This want of symmetry 
destroyed the claim he might otherwise have set up, to be 
accounted a very handsome man ; ' it gave something wild, 
irregular, and, as it were, unearthly, to his appearance, and 
15 reminded me involuntarily of the tales which Mabel used to 
tell of the old Picts° who ravaged Northumberland in ancient 
times, who, according, to her tradition, were a sort of half- 
goblin half-human beings, distinguished, like this man, for 
courage, cunning, ferocity, the length of their arms, and the 
20 squareness of their shoulders. 

Of what use could this person be to my father’s affairs? 
— I could think only of one. Rashleigh Osbaldistone had, 
at the instigation of Miss Vernon, certainly found means to 
produce Mr. Campbell when his presence was necesssary 
25 to exculpate me from Morris’s accusation — Was it not pos- 
sible that her influence, in like manner, might prevail on 
Campbell to produce Rashleigh? Speaking on this supposi- 
tion, I requested to know where my dangerous kinsman was, 
and when Mr. Campbell had seen him. The answer was 
30 indirect. 

“It’s a kittle cast she has gien me to play; but yet it’s 
fair play, and I winna baulk her. Mr. Osbaldistone, I dwell 
not very far from hence — my kinsman can show you the 


ROB ROY 


221 


way — Leave Mr. Owen to do the best he can in Glasgow — 
do you. come and see me in the glens, and it’s like I may 
pleasure you, and stead your father in his extremity. I am 
but a poor man ; but wit’s better than wealth — and, cousin” 
(turning from me to address Mr. Jar vie), “if ye daur ven- 5 
ture sae rnuckle as to eat a dish of Scotch collops, and a leg 
o’ red-deer venison wi’ me, come ye wi’ this Sassenach gentle- 
man as far as Drymen 0 or Bucklivie, 0 — or the Clachan of 
Aberfoil 0 will be better than ony o’ them, — and I’ll hae 
somebody waiting to weise ye the gate to the place where I io 
may be for the time — What say ye, man? There’s my 
thumb, I’ll ne’er beguile thee.” 

“Na, na, Robin,” said the cautious burgher, “I seldom 
like to leave the Gorbals ;° I have nae freedom to gang among 
your wild hills, Robin, and your kilted red-shanks — it 15 
disna becomes my place, man.” 

“The devil damn your place and you baith!” reiterated 
Campbell. “The only drap o’ gentle bluid that’s in your 
body was our great-grand-uncle’s that was justified 0 at 
Dumbarton, 0 and you set yourself up to say ye wad derogate 20 
frae your place to visit me ! Hark thee, man — I owe thee 
a day in harst — I’ll pay up your thousan pund Scots, plack 
and bawbee, gin ye’ll be an honest fallow for anes, and just 
daiker up the gate wi’ this Sassenach.” 

“Hout awa’ wi’ your gentility,” replied the Bailie; “carry 25 
your gentle bluid to the Cross, and see what ye’ll buy wi’t. 
But, if I were to come, wad ye really and soothfastly pay 
me the siller?” 

“I swear to ye,” said the Highlander, “upon the halidome 
of him that sleeps beneath the grey stane at Inch-Cailleach.”° 30 

“Say nae mair, Robin — say nae mair — We’ll see what 
may be dune. But ye maunna expect me to gang ower the 
Highland line — I’ll gae beyond the line at no rate. Ye 


222 


ROB ROY 


maun meet me about Bucklivie or the Clachan of Aberfoil, — 
and dinna forget the needful.” 

“Nae fear — nae fear,” said Campbell; ‘Til be as true 
as the steel blade that never failed its master. But I must 
5 be budging, cousin, for the air o’ Glasgow tolbooth is no 
that ower salutary to a Highlander’s constitution.” 

“Troth,” replied the merchant, “and if my duty were to 
be dune, ye couldna change your atmosphere, as the minister 
ca’s it, this ae wee while. — Ochon, that I sud ever be con- 
io cerned in aiding and abetting an escape frae justice ! it will 
be a shame and disgrace to me and mine, and my very father’s 
memory, for ever.” 

“Hout, tout, man! let that flee stick in the wa’,” answered 
his kinsman; “when the dirt’s dry it will rub out — Your 
15 father, honest man, could look ower a friend’s fault as weel 
as anither.” 

“Ye may be right, Robin,” replied the Bailie, after a 
moment’s reflection; “he was a considerate man the deacon; 
he ken’d we had a’ our frailties, and he lo’ed his friends — 
20 Ye’ll no hae forgotten him, Robin?” This question he put 
in a softened tone, conveying as much at least of the ludi- 
crous as the pathetic. 

“Forgotten him!” replied his kinsman — “what suld ail 
me to forget him ? — a wappin weaver he was, and wrought 
25 my first pair o’ hose. — But come awa’, kinsman, 

Come fill up my cap, 0 come fill up my cann, 

Come saddle my horses, and call up my man ; 

Come open your gates, and let me gae free, 

I daurna stay langer in bonny Dundee.” 

30 “Whisht, sir!” said the magistrate, in an authoritative 
tone — “lilting and singing sae near the latter end o’ the 
Sabbath ! This house may hear ye sing anither tune yet — 


ROB ROY 


223 


Aweel, we hae a’ backslidings to answer for — Stanchells, 
open the door.” • 

The jailor obeyed, and we all sallied forth. Stanchells 
looked with some surprise at the two strangers, wondering, 
doubtless, how they came into these premises without his 5 
knowledge"; but Mr. Jarvie’s “Friends o’ mine, Stanchells — 
friends o’ mine,” silenced all disposition to inquiries. We now 
descended into the lower vestibule, and hallooed more than 
once for Dougal, to which summons no answer was returned ; 
when Campbell observed with a sardonic smile, “That if 10 
Dougal was the lad he kent him, he would scarce wait to 
get thanks for his ain share of the night’s wark, but was 
in all probability on the full trot to the pass of Balla- 
maha” 

“And left us — and, abune a’, me, mysell, locked up in the 15 
tolbooth a’ night ! ” exclaimed the Bailie, in ire and perturba- 
tion. “Ca’ for forehammers, sledge-hammers, pinches, and 
coulters ; send for Deacon Yettlin, the smith, an let him ken 
that Bailie Jarvie’s shut up in the tolbooth by a Highland 

blackguard, whom he’ll hang up as high as Haman”° 20 

“When ye catch him,” said Campbell, gravely; “but 
stay — the door is surely not locked.” 

Indeed, on examination, we found that the door was not 
only left open, but that Dougal in his retreat had, by carry- 
ing off the keys along with him, taken care that no one should 25 
exercise his office of porter in a hurry. 

“He has glimmerings o’ common sense now, that creature 
Dougal,” said Campbell; — “he ken’d an open door might 
hae served me at a pinch.” 

We were by this time in the street. 30 

“I tell you, Robin,” said the magistrate, “in my puir 
mind, if ye live the life ye do, ye suld hae ane o’ your gillies 
door-keeper in every jail in Scotland, in case o’ the warst.” 


224 


ROB ROY 


“Ane o’ my kinsmen a bailie in ilka burgh will just do as 
weel, cousin Nicol — So, gude-night or gude-morning to 
ye ; and forget not the Clachan of Aberfoil.” 

And without waiting for an answer, he sprung to the other 
5 side of the street, and was lost in darkness. Immediately 
on his disappearance, we heard him give a low whistle of 
peculiar modulation, which was instantly replied to. 

‘'Hear to the Hieland deevils,” said Mr. Jarvie; “they 
think themselves on the skirts of Ben Lomond 0 already, 
io where they may gang whewing and whistling about without 
minding Sunday or Saturday/’ Here he was interrupted 
by something which fell with a heavy clash on the street before 
us — “Gude guide us! what’s this mair o’t? — Mattie, 
haud up the lantern — Conscience ; if it isna the keys ! — 
15 Weel, that’s just as weel — they cost the burgh siller, and 
there might hae been some clavers about the loss o’ them. 
O, an Bailie Grahame were to get word o’ this night’s job, 
it would be a sair hair in my neck ! ” 

As we were still but a few steps from the tolbooth door, 
20 we carried back these implements of office, and consigned 
them to the head jailor, who, in lieu of the usual mode of 
making good his post by turning the keys, was keeping sentry 
in the vestibule till the arrival of some assistant, whom he 
had summoned in order to replace the Celtic fugitive 
25 Dougal. 

Having discharged this piece of duty to the burgh, and 
my road lying the same way with the honest magistrate’s, I 
profited by the light of his lantern, and he by my arm, to 
find our way through the streets, which, whatever they may 
30 now be, were then dark, uneven, and ill-paved. Age is 
easily propitiated by attentions from the young. The Bailie 
expressed himself interested in me, and added, “That since 
I was nane o’ that play-acting and play-ganging generation, 


ROB ROY 


225 


whom his saul hated, he wad be glad if I wad eat a reisted 
haddock or a fresh herring, at breakfast wi’ him the morn, 
and meet my friend, Mr. Owen, whom, by that time, he 
would place at liberty.” 

“My dear sir,” said I, when I had accepted of the invita- 5 
tion with thanks, “how could you possibly connect me with 
the stage ? ” 

“I watna,” replied Mr. Jarvie; — “it was a bletherin’ 
phrasin’ chield they ca’ Fairservice, that cam at e’en to get 
an order to send the crier through the toun for ye at skreigh 10 
o’ day the morn. He tell’t me whae ye were, and how ye 
were sent frae your father’s house because ye wadna be a 
dealer, and that ye mightna disgrace your family wi’ gang- 
ing on the stage. Ane Hammorgaw r , our precentor, brought 
him here, and said he was an auld acquaintance ; but I sent 1 5 
them both away wi’ a flae in their lug for bringing me sic 
an errand, on sic a night. But I see he’s a fule-creature 
a’thegither, and clean mistaen about ye. I like ye, man,” 
he continued; “I like a lad that will stand by his friends in 
trouble — I aye did it mysell, and sae did the deacon my 20 
father, rest and bless him ! But ye suldna keep ower muckle 
company wi’ Hielandman and thae wild cattle. Can a man 
touch pitch and no be defiled ? — aye mind that. Nae 
doubt, the best and wisest may err — Once, twice, and thrice 
have I backslidden, man, and dune three things this night — 25 
my father wadna hae believed his een if he could hae looked 
up and seen me do them.” 

He was by this time arrived at the door of his own dwelling. 

He paused, however, on the threshold, and went on in a 
solemn tone of deep contrition, — “Firstly, I hae thought 30 
my ain thoughts on the Sabbath — secondly, I hae gi’en 
security for an Englishman — and, in the third and last 
place, well-a-day! I hae let an ill-doer escape from the 
Q 


226 


ROB ROY 


place of imprisonment — But there’s balm in Gilead , 0 Mr. 
Osbaldistone — Mattie, I can let mysell in — see Mr. Osbaldi- 
stone to Luckie Flyter’s, at the corner o’ the wynd. — Mr. 
Osbaldistone” — in a whisper — “ye’ll offer nae incivility 
S to Mattie — she’s an honest man’s daughter, and a near 
cousin o’ the Laird o’ Limmerfield’s.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


“ Will it please your worship to accept of my poor service? 

I beseech that I may feed upon your bread, though it be 
the brownest, and drink of your drink, though it be of the 
smallest; for I will do your worship as much service for 
forty shillings as another man shall for three pounds." 

,j ^ Green’s Tu Quoque. 0 

* 

I remembered the honest Bailie’s parting charge, but 
did not conceive there was any incivility in adding a kiss 
to the half-crown with which I remunerated Mattie’s attend- 
ance; — nor did her “Fie for shame, sir!” express any very 
deadly resentment of the affront. Repeated knocking at 5 
Mrs. Flyter’s gate awakened in due order,, first, one or two 
stray dogs, who began to bark with all their might; next 
two or three night-capped heads, which were thrust out of 
the neighboring windows to reprehend me for disturbing 
the solemnity of the Sunday night by that untimely noise, io 
While I trembled lest the thunders of their wrath might dis- 
solve in showers like that of Xantippe , 0 Mrs. Fly ter herself 
awoke, and began, in a tone of objurgation not unbecoming 
the philosophical spouse of Socrates, to scold one or two 
loiterers in her kitchen, for not hastening to the door to 15 
prevent a repetition of my noisy summons. 

These worthies were, indeed, nearly concerned in the fracas 
which their laziness occasioned, being no other than the 
faithful Mr. Fairservice, with his friend Mr. Hammorgaw, 
and another person, whom I afterward found to be the town- 20 

227 


228 


ROB ROY 


crier who were sitting over a cog of ale, as they called it 
(at my expense, as my bill afterward informed me), in order 
to devise the terms and style of a proclamation to be made 
through the streets the next day, in order that “the unfortu- 
5 nate young gentleman,” as they had the impudence to qualify 
me, might be restored to his friends without farther delay. 
Andrew set up ejaculations of transport at my arrival. The 
tumultuous glee which he felt, or pretended to feel, saved 
Andrew the broken head which I had twice destined him ; — 
io first, on account of the colloquy he had held with the pre- 
centor on my affairs; and secondly, for the impertinent 
history he had thought proper to give of me to Mr. Jarvie. 
I however contented myself with slapping the door of my 
bedroom in his face as he followed me, praising Heaven for 
is my safe return, and mixing his joy with admonitions to 
me to take care how I walked my own ways in future. I 
then went to bed, resolving my first business in the morning 
should be to discharge this troublesome, pedantic, self- 
conceited coxcomb, who seemed so much disposed to con- 
20 stitute himself rather a preceptor than a domestic. 

Accordingly in the morning I fixed the amount of his 
wages, and reserved to myself the privilege of dismissing 
him when I chose, on paying him a week in advance. I gave 
him finally a severe lecture on his conduct of the preceding 
25 day, and then dismissed him rejoicing at heart, though 
somewhat crestfallen in countenance, to rehearse to his 
friend the precentor, who was taking his morning draught 
in the kitchen, the mode in which he had “cuitled up the 
daft young English squire.” 

30 Agreeable to appointment, I went next to Bailie Nicol Jar- 
vie’s, where a comfortable morning’s repast was arranged 
in the parlor, which served as an apartment of all hours, 
and almost all work, to that honest gentleman. The bustling 


ROB ROY 


229 


and benevolent magistrate had been as good as his word. 

I found my friend Owen at liberty, and, conscious of the 
refreshment and purification of brush and basin, was of 
course a very different person from Owen a prisoner, squalid, 
heart-broken, and hopeless. Yet the sense of pecuniary 5 
difficulties arising behind, before, and around him, had de- 
pressed his spirit, and the almost paternal embrace which 
the good man gave me, was embittered by a sigh of the deepest 
anxiety. And when he sate down, the heaviness in his eye 
and manner, so different from the quiet composed satisfac- 10 
tion which they usually exhibited, indicated that he was 
employing his arithmetic in mentally numbering up the days, 
the hours, the minutes, which yet remained as an interval 
between the dishonor of bills and the downfall of the great 
commercial establishment of Osbaldistone and Tresham. 15 
It was left to me, therefore, to do honor to our landlord’s 
hospitable cheer — to his tea, right from China, which he 
got in a present from some eminent ship’s-husband at Wap- 
ping 0 — to his coffee, from a snug plantation of his own, 
as he informed us with a wink, called Saltmarket Grove, 20 
in the island of Jamaica — to his English toast and ale, his 
Scotch dried salmon, his Loch Fine 0 herrings, and even to 
the double-damask table-cloth, “wrought by no hand, as 
you may guess,” save that of his deceased father the worthy 
Deacon Jarvie. 25 

Having conciliated our good-humored host by those 
little attentions which are great to most men, I endeavored 
in my turn to gain from him some information which might 
be useful for my guidance, as well as for the satisfaction of 
my curiosity. We had not hitherto made the least allusion 30 
to the transactions of the preceding night, a circumstance 
which made my question sound somewhat abrupt, when, 
without any previous introduction of the subject, I took 


230 


ROB ROY 


advantage of a pause when the history of the table-cloth 
ended, and that of the napkins was about to commence, 
to inquire, “Pray, by the by, Mr. Jarvie, who may this Mr. 
Robert Campbell be, whom we met with last night?” 

5 The interrogatory seemed to strike the honest magistrate, 
to use the vulgar phrase, “all of a heap,” and instead of 
answering, he returned the question — - “Whae’s Mr. Robert 
Campbell ? — ahem ! ahay ! Whae’s Mr. Robert Campbell, 
quo’ he?” 

xo “Yes,” said I, “I mean who and what is he?” 

“Why, he’s — ahay ! — he’s — ahem ! — Where did ye 
meet with Mr. Robert Campbell, as ye ca’ him ? ” 

“I met him by chance,” I replied, “some months ago in 
the north of England.” 

15 “Ou then, Mr. Osbaldistone,” said the Bailie, doggedly, 
“ye’ll ken as muckle about him as I do.” 

“I should suppose not, Mr. Jarvie,” I replied; — “you 
are his relation, it seems, and his friend.” 

“There is some cousin-red between us, doubtless,” said 

20 the Bailie reluctantly; “but we hae seen little o’ ilk other 
since Rob gae up the cattle-line o’ dealing, poor fallow! he 
was hardly guided by them might hae used him better — 
and they haena made their plack a bawbee o’t neither. 
There’s mony ane this day wad rather they had never chased 

2 5 puir Robin frae the Cross o’ Glasgow — there’s mony ane 
wad rather see him again at the tale o’ three hundred kyloes, 
than at the head o’ thirty waur cattle.” 

“All this explains nothing to me, Mr. Jarvie, of Mr. Camp- 
bell’s rank, habits of life, and means of subsistence,” I replied. 

30 “Rank?” said Mr. Jarvie; “he’s a Hieland gentleman, 
nae doubt — better rank need nane to be ; — and for habit, 
I judge he wears the Hieland habit amang the hills, though 
he has breeks on when he comes to Glasgow; — and as for 


ROB ROY 


231 


his subsistence, what needs we care’ about his subsistence, 
sae lang as he asks naething frae us, ye ken ? But I hae nae 
time for clavering about him e’en now, because we maun 
look into your father’s concerns wi’ all speed.” 

So saying, he put on his spectacles, and sat down to exam- 5 
ine Mr. Owen’s states, which the other thought it most 
prudent to communicate to him without reserve. I knew 
enough of business to be aware that nothing could be more 
acute and sagacious than the views which Mr. Jarvie enter- 
tained of the matters submitted to his examination; and, 10 
to do him justice, it was marked by fairness, and even liberal- 
ity. He scratched his ear indeed repeatedly on observing 
the balance which stood at the debit of Osbaldistone and 
Tresham in account with himself personally. 

“It may be a dead loss,” he observed; “and, conscience! 15 
whate’er ane o’ your Lombard Street goldsmiths may say to it, 
it’s a snell ane in the Saut Market o’ Glasgow. It will be a 
heavy deficit — a staff out o’ my bicker, I trow. But what 
then ? — I trust the house wunna coup the crans for a’ that’s 
come and gane y^t ; and if it does, I’ll never bear sae base 20 
a mind as thae corbies in the Gallowgate — an I am to lose 
by ye, I’se ne’er deny I hae won by ye mony a fair pund 
sterling — Sae, an it come to the warst, I’se e’en lay the head 
o’ the sow to the tail o’ the grice.” 

As I was an idle spectator on this occasion, and, perhaps, 25 
as I showed some inclination more than once to return to the 
prohibited, and apparently the puzzling subject of Mr. 
Campbell, Mr. Jarvie dismissed me with little formality, with 
an advice to “gang up the gate to the college, where I wad 
find some chields could speak Greek and Latin weel — at 30 
least they got plenty o’ siller for doing deil haet else, if they 
did do that; and where I might read a spell o’ the worthy 
Mr. Zachary Boyd’s 0 translation o’ Scriptures — better 


232 


ROB ROY 


poetry need nane to be, as he had been tell’d by them that 
ken’d or suld hae ken’d about sic things.” But he seasoned 
this dismission with a kind and hospitable invitation “to 
come back and take part o’ his family-chack at ane preceesely 
5 — there wad be a leg o’ mutton, and, it might be, a tup’s 
head, for they were in season ; ” but above all, I was to return 
at “ane o’clock preceesely — it was the hour he and the dea- 
con his father aye dined at — they pat it off for naething nor 
for naebody.” 


I 


i 


CHAPTER XXV 


So stands the Thracian herdsman with his spear 
Full in the gap, and hopes the hunted bear ; 

And hears him in the rustling wood, and sees 
His course at distance by the bending trees, 

And thinks — Here comes my mortal enemy, 

And either he must fall in fight, or I. 

Palamon and Arcite° 

I took the route toward the college, 0 as recommended 
by Mr. Jarvie, less with the intention of seeking for any 
object of interest or amusement, than to arrange my own 
ideas, and meditate on my future conduct. 

While I was musing on these subjects, my attention was 5 
attracted by three persons who appeared at the upper end 
of the walk through which I was sauntering, seemingly 
engaged in very earnest conversation. That intuitive im- 
pression which announces to us the approach of whomsoever 
we love or hate with intense vehemence, long before a more 10 
indifferent eye can recognize their persons, flashed upon my 
mind the sure conviction that the midmost of these three 
men was Rashleigh Osbaldistone. I was not a little startled 
at recognizing in his companions that very Morris on whose 
account I had been summoned before Judge Inglewood, is 
and Mr. MacVittie the merchant, from whose starched and 
severe aspect I had recoiled on the preceding day. 

When they had passed me for some paces, I turned and 
followed them unobserved. At the end of the walk they 

233 


234 


ROB ROY 


separated, Morris and MacVittie leaving the gardens, and 
Rashleigh returning alone through the walks. I was now 
determined to confront him, and demand reparation for the 
injuries he had done my father, though in what form redress 
5 was likely to be rendered remained to be known. This, 
however, I trusted to chance; and flinging back the cloak 
in which I was muffled, I passed through a gap of the low 
hedge, and presented myself before Rashleigh, as, in a deep 
reverie, he paced down the avenue, 
io ‘‘You are well met, sir,” was my commencement; “I 
was about to take a long and doubtful journey in quest of 
you.” 

“You know little of him you sought then,” replied Rash- 
leigh, with his usual undaunted composure. “I am easily 
i S found by my friends — still more easily by my foes ; — your 
manner compels me to ask in which class I must rank Mr. 
Francis Osbaldistone ?” 

“In that of your foes, sir,” I answered — “in that of your 
mortal foes, unless you instantly do justice to your benefactor, 
20 my father, by accounting for his property.” 

“And to whom, Mr. Osbaldistone,” answered Rashleigh, 
“am I, a member of your father’s commercial establishment, 
to be compelled to give an account of my proceedings in 
those concerns, which are in every respect identified with 
25 my own ? — Surely not to a young gentleman whose exquisite 
taste for literature would render such discussions disgusting 
and unintelligible.” 

“Your sneer, sir, is no answer; I will not part with you 
until I have full satisfaction concerning the fraud you meditate 
30 — you shall go with me before a magistrate.” 

“Be it so,” said Rashleigh, and made a step or two as if 
to accompany me; then pausing, proceeded — “Were I 
inclined to do so as you would have me, you should soon feel 


ROB ROY 


235 


which of us had most reason to dread the presence of a magis- 
trate. But I have no wish to accelerate your fate. Go, 
young man ! amuse yourself in your world of poetical imagi- 
nations, and leave the business of life to those who understand 
and can conduct it.” 5 

His intention, I believe, was to provoke me, and he suc- 
ceeded. “Mr. Osbaldistone,” I said, “this tone of calm 
insolence shall not avail you. You ought to be aware that 
the name we both bear never submitted to insult, and shall 
not in my person be exposed to it.” io 

“You remind me,” said Rashleigh, with one of his black- 
est looks, “that it was dishonored in my person ! — and you 
remind me also by whom ! Do you think I have forgotten 
the evening at Osbaldistone Hall when you cheaply and with 
impunity played the bully at my expense? For that insult 15 

— never to be washed out but by blood ! — for the various 
times you have crossed my path, and always to my prejudice 

— for the persevering folly with which you seek to traverse 
schemes, the importance of which you neither know nor are 
capable . of estimating, — for all these, sir, you owe me a 20 
long account, for which there shall come an early day of 
reckoning.” 

“Let it come when it will,” I replied, “I shall be willing 
and ready to meet it. Yet you seem to have forgotten the 
heaviest article — that I had the pleasure to aid Miss Ver- 25 
non’s good sense and virtuous feeling in extricating her from 
your infamous toils.” 

I think his dark eyes flashed actual fire at this home-thrust, 
and yet his voice retained the same calm expressive tone 
with which he had hitherto conducted the conversation. 30 

“I had other views with respect to you, young man,” was 
his answer : “less hazardous for you, and more suitable 
to my present character and former education. But I see 


236 


ROB ROY 


you will draw on yourself the personal chastisement your 
boyish insolence so well merits. Follow me to a more remote 
spot, where we are less likely to be interrupted.” 

I followed him accordingly, keeping a strict eye on his 
5 motions, for I believed him capable of the very worst actions. 
We reached an open spot in a sort of wilderness, laid out 
in the Dutch taste, with clipped hedges, and one or two statues. 
I was on my guard, and it was well with me that I was so; 
for Rashleigh’s sword was out and at my breast ere I could 
io throw down my cloak, or get my weapon unsheathed, so 
that I only saved my life by springing a pace or two back- 
ward. He had some advantage in the difference of our 
weapons; for his sword, as I recollect, was longer than 
mine, and had one of those bayonet or three-cornered blades 
15 which are now generally worn; whereas mine was what we 
then called a Saxon blade — narrow, flat, and two-edged, 
and scarcely so manageable as that of my enemy. In other 
respects we were pretty equally matched ; for what advantage 
I might possess in superior address and agility, was fully 
20 counterbalanced by Rashleigh’s great strength and coolness. 

My first resolution, therefore, was to attempt to disarm 
my antagonist — a manoeuvre in which, confiding in my 
superiority of skill and practice, I anticipated little difficulty. 
I found, however, I had met my match ; and one or two foils 
25 which I received, and from the consequences of which I 
narrowly escaped, obliged me to observe more caution in 
my mode of fighting. By degrees I became exasperated at 
the rancor with which Rashleigh sought my life, and returned 
his passes with an inveteracy resembling in some degree 
30 his own ; so that the combat had all the appearance of being 
destined to have a tragic issue. That' issue had nearly 
taken place at my expense. My foot slipped in a full lounge 
which I made at my adversary, and I could not so far recover 


ROB ROY 


237 


myself as completely to parry the thrust with which my pass 
was repaid. Yet it took but partial effect, running through 
my waistcoat, grazing my ribs, and passing through my coat 
behind. The hilt of Rashleigh’s sword, so great was the 
vigor of his thrust, struck against my breast with such force 5 
as to give me great pain, and confirm me in the momentary 
belief that I was mortally wounded. Eager for revenge, 

I grappled with my enemy, seizing 0 with my left hand the 
hilt of his sword, and shortening my own with the purpose 
of running him through the body. Our death-grapple IO 
was interrupted by a man who forcibly threw himself be- 
tween us, and pushing us separate from each other, exclaimed, 
in a loud and commanding voice, “What ! the sons of those 
fathers who sucked the same breast shedding each other’s 
bluid as it were strangers’ ! — By the hand of my father, I z 5 
will cleave to the brisket the first man that mints another 
stroke !” 

I looked up in astonishment. The speaker was no other 
than Campbell. He had a basket-hilted broadsword drawn 
in his hand, which he made to whistle around his head as 2Q 
he spoke, as if for the purpose of enforcing his mediation. 
Rashleigh and I stared in silence at this unexpected intruder, 
who proceeded to exhort us alternately : — “Do you, Maister 
Francis, opine that ye will reestablish your father’s credit 
by cutting your kinsman’s thrapple, or getting your ain 2S 
sneckit instead thereof in the College-yards of Glasgow? 

— Or do you, Mr. Rashleigh, think men will trust their 
lives and fortunes wi’ ane that, when in point of trust and in 
point of confidence wi’ a great political interest, gangs about 
brawling like a drunken gillie? — Nay, never look gash or 3Q 
grim at me, man — if ye’re angry, ye ken how to turn the 
buckle o’ your belt behind you.” 

“You presume on my present situation,” replied Rash- 


238 


ROB ROY 


leigh, “or you would have hardly dared to interfere where my 
honor is concerned.” 

“Hout! tout! tout: — Presume? And what for should 
it be presuming ? — Ye may be the richer man, Mr. Osbaldi- 
5 stone, as is maist likely ; and ye may be the mair learned 
man, whilk I dispute not : but I reckon ye are neither a 
prettier man nor a better gentleman than mysell — and it 
will be news to me when I hear ye are as gude. And dare 
too ? Muckle daring there’s about it — I trow, here I stand, 
io that hae slashed as het a haggis as ony o’ the twa o’ ye, and 
thought nae muckle o’ my morning’s wark when it was dune. 
If my foot were on the heather as it’s on the causeway, or 
this pickle gravel, that’s little better, I hae been waur mis- 
trysted than if I were set to gie ye baith your ser’ing o’t.” 

1 5 Rashleigh had by this time recovered his temper completely. 
“My kinsman,” he said, “will acknowledge he forced this 
quarrel on me. It was none of my seeking. I am glad we 
are interrupted before I chastised his forwardness more 
severely.” 

20 “Are ye hurt, lad?” inquired Campbell of me, with some 
appearance of interest. 

“A very slight scratch,” I answered, “which my kind 
cousin would not long have boasted of had not you come 
between us.” 

2 5 “In troth and that’s true, Maister Rashleigh,” said 
Campbell; “for the cauld iron and your best bluid were 
like to hae become acquaint when I mastered Mr. Frank’s 
right hand. But never look like a sow playing upon a trump 
for the luve of that, man — come and walk wi’ me. I hae 
3 o news to tell ye, and ye’ll cool and come to yoursell, like Mac- 
Gibbon’s crowdy, when he set it out at the window-bole.” 

“Pardon me, sir,” said I. “Your intentions have seemed 
friendly to me on more occasions than one ; but I must not. 


ROB ROY 


239 


and will not, quit sight of this person until he yields up to 
me those means of doing justice to my father’s engagements, 
of which he has treacherously possessed himself.” 

“Ye’re daft, man,” replied Campbell; “it will serve ye 
naething to follow us e’enow; ye hae just enow o’ ae man — 5 
wad ye bring twa on your head, and might bide quiet?” 

“Twenty,” I replied, “if it be necessary.” 

I laid my hand on Rashleigh’s collar, who made no resist- 
ance, but said, with a sort of scornful smile, “You hear him, 
MacGregor! he rushes on his fate — will it be my fault if io 
he falls into it ? — The warrants are by this time ready, and 
all is prepared.” 

The Scotchman was obviously embarrassed. He looked 
around, and before, and behind him, and then said — “The 
ne’er a bit will I yield my consent to his being ill-guided for 1 5 
standing up for the father that got him — and I gie God’s 
malison and mine to a’ sort o’ magistrates, justices, bailies, 
sheriffs, sheriff-officers, constables, and sic-like black cattle, 
that hae been the plagues o’ puir auld Scotland this hunder 
year; — -it was a merry warld when every man held his 20 
ain gear wi’ his ain grip, and when the country side wasna 
fashed wi’ warrants and poindings and appri zings, and a’ 
that cheatry craft. And ance mair I say it, my conscience 
winna see this puir thoughtless lad ill-guided, and especially 
wi’ that sort o’ trade. I wad rather ye fell till’t again, and 25 
fought it out like douce honest men.” 

“Your conscience, MacGregor!” said Rashleigh; “you 
forget how long you and I have known each other.” 

“Yes, my conscience,” reiterated Campbell, or MacGregor 
or whatever was his name; “I hae such a thing about me, 30 
Maister Osbaldistone ; and therein it may weel chance that 
I hae the better o’ you. As to our knowledge of each other, 

— if ye ken what I am, ye ken what usage it was made me 


240 


ROB ROY 


what I am; and, whatever you may think, I would not 
change states with the proudest of the oppressors that hae 
driven me to tak the heather-bush for a beild. What you 
are, Maister Rashleigh, and what excuse ye hae for being 
5 What you are, is between your ain heart and the lang day. — 
And now, Maister Francis, let go his collar ; for he says truly, 
that ye are in mair danger from a magistrate than he is, and 
were your cause as straight as an arrow, he wad find a way 
to put you wrang — So let go his craig, as I was saying.” 
io He seconded his words with an effort so sudden and un- 
expected, that he freed Rashleigh from my hold, and secur- 
ing me, notwithstanding my struggles, in his own Herculean 
gripe, he called out — “Take the bent, Mr. Rashleigh — 
Make ae pair o’ legs worth twa pair o’ hands; ye hae dune 
15 that before now.” 

“You may thank this gentleman, kinsman,” said Rash- • 
leigh, “if I leave any part of my debt to you unpaid; and 
if I quit you now, it is only in the hope we shall soon meet 
again without the possibility of interruption.” 

20 He took up his sword, wiped it, sheathed it, and was lost 
among the bushes. 

The Scotchman, partly by force, partly by remonstrance, 
prevented my following him ; indeed I began to be of opinion 
my doing so would be to little purpose. 

25 “As I live by bread,” said Campbell, when, after one or 
two struggles in which he used much forbearance toward 
me, he perceived me inclined to stand quiet, “I never saw 
sae daft a callant! I wad hae gien the best man in the 
country the breadth o’ his back gin he had gien me sic a 
3okemping as ye hae dune. What wad ye do? — Wad ye 
follow the wolf to his den ? I tell ye, man, he has the auld 
trap set for ye — He has got the collector-creature Morris 
to bring up a’ the auld story again, and ye maun look for 


ROB ROY 


241 


nae help frae me here, as ye got at Justice Inglewood’s; — it 
isna good for my health to come in the gate o’ the whigamore 
bailie bodies. Now gang your ways hame, like a gude bairn 
— jouk and let the jaw gae by — Keep out o’ sight o’ Rash- 
leigh, and Morris, and that MacVittie animal — Mind the 5 
Clachan of Aberfoif, as I said before, and the word of a gentle- 
man, I wunna see ye wranged. But keep a calm sough till 
we meet again — I maun gae and get Rashleigh out o’ the 
town afore waur comes o’t, for the neb o’ him’s never out 
o’ mischief — Mind the Clachan of Aberfoil.” 10 

He turned upon his heel, and left me to meditate on the 
singular events which had befallen me. 



R 


CHAPTER XXVI 

An iron race the mountain-cliffs maintain, 

Foes to the gentler genius of the plain. 

* 

******* 

Who while their rocky ramparts round they see, 

The rough abode of want and liberty, 

As lawless force from confidence will grow, 

Insult the plenty of the vales below. 

Gray . 0 

“What made ye sae late?” said Mr. Jarvie, as I entered 
the dining-parlor of that honest gentleman; “it is chappit 
ane the best feck o’ five minutes by-gane. Mattie has been 
twice at the door wi’ the dinner, and weel for you it was a 
S tup’s head, for that canna suffer by delay. A sheep’s head 
ower muckle boiled is rank poison, as my worthy father used 
to say — he likit the lug o’ ane weel, honest man.” 

I made a suitable apology for my breach of punctuality, 
and was soon seated at table, where Mr. Jarvie presided 
io with great glee and hospitality, compelling, however, Owen 
and myself to do rather more justice to the Scottish dainties 
with which his board was charged, than was quite agreeable 
to our southern palates. 

When the cloth was removed, Mr. Jarvie compounded 
is with his own hands a very small bowl of brandy-punch, the 
first which I had ever the fortune to see. 

“The limes,” he assured us, “were from his own little 
farm yonder-awa” (indicating the West Indies with a know- 
242 


ROB ROY 


243 


ing shrug of his shoulders), “and he had learned the art 
of composing the liquor from auld Captain Coffinkey, who 
acquired it,” he added in a whisper, “as maist folk thought, 
among the Buccaniers. But it’s excellent liquor,” said he, 
helping us round; “and good ware has aften come frae as 
wicked market. And as for Captain Coffinkey, he was a 
decent man when I kent him, only he used to swear awfully — 
But he’s dead, and gaen to his account, and I trust he’s 
accepted.” 

We found the liquor exceedingly palatable, and it led to a io 
long conversation between Owen and our host on the open- 
ing which the Union had afforded to trade between Glasgow 
and the British Colonies in America and the West Indies, 
and on the facilities which Glasgow possessed of making 
up sortable cargoes for that market. Mr. Jarvie answered 15 
some objection which Owen made on the difficulty of sort- 
ing a cargo for America, without buying from England, with 
vehemence and volubility. 

“Na, na, sir, we stand on our ain bottom — we pickle in 
our ain pock-neuk — We hae our Stirling serges, Mussel- 20 
burgh 0 stuffs. Aberdeen hose, Edinburgh shalloons, 0 and 
the like, for our woolen or worsted goods — and we hae linens 
of a’ kinds better and cheaper than you hae in Lunnon itsell 
— and we can buy your north o’ England wares, as Man- 
chester wares, Sheffield wares, and Newcastle earthenware, 25 
as cheap as you can at Liverpool — And we are making a 
fair spell at cottons and muslins — Na, na ! let every herring 
hing by its ain head, and every sheep by its ain shank, and 
ye’ll find, sir, us Glasgow, folk no sae far ahint but what 
we may follow. — This is but poor entertainment for you, 30 
Mr. Osbaldistone ” (observing that I had been for some time 
silent); “but ye ken cadgers maun aye be speaking about 
cart-saddles.” 


244 


ROB ROY 


I apologized, alleging the painful circumstances of my 
own situation, and the singular adventures of the morning. 
Mr. Jarvie listened with great attention and apparent interest, 
twinkling his little grey eyes, taking snuff, and only interrupt- 
5 ing me by brief interjections. When I came to the account 
of the rencounter, at which Owen folded his hands and cast 
up his eyes to Heaven, the very image of woeful surprise, 
Mr. Jarvie broke in upon the narration with “Wrang now — 
clean wrang — to draw a sword on your kinsman is inhibited 
io by the laws o’ God and man ; and to draw a sword on the 
streets of a royal burgh is punishable by fine and imprison- 
ment — and the College-yards are nae better privileged 
— they should be a place of peace and quietness, I trow. 
The College didna get gude £600 a year out o’ bishops’ rents 
is (sorrow fa’ the brood o’ bishops and their rents too!), nor 
yet a lease o’ the archbishopric o’ Glasgow the sell o’t, that 
they suld let folk tuilzie in their yards, or the wild callants 
bicker there wi’ snaw-ba’s° as they whiles do, that when 
Mattie and I gae through, we are fain to make a baik and 
20 a bow, or run the risk o’ our harns being knocked out — 
it suld be looked to. — But come awa’ wi’ your tale — what 
fell neist?” 

On my mentioning the appearance of Mr. Campbell, 
Jarvie arose in great surprise, and paced the room, exclaim- 
25 ing, “ Robin again! — Robert’s mad — clean wud, and 
waur — Rob will be hanged, and disgrace a’ his kindred, 
and that will be seen and heard tell o’. My father the 
deacon wrought him his first hose — Od, I am thinking Deacon 
Threeplie, the rape-spinner, will be twisting his last cravat. 
30 Ay, ay, puir Robin is in a fair way o’ being hanged — But 
come awa’, come awa’ — let’s hear the lave o’t.” 

I told the whole story as pointedly as I could ; but Mr. 
Jarvie still found something lacking to make it clear, until 


ROB ROY 


245 


I went back, though with considerable reluctance, on the 
whole story of Morris, and of my meeting with Campbell 
at the house of Justice Inglewood. Mr. Jarvie inclined 
a serious ear to all this, and remained silent for some time 
after I had finished my narrative. 5 

“Upon all these matters I am now to ask your advice, 
Mr. Jarvie, which, I have no doubt, will point out the 
best way to act for my father’s advantage and my own 
honor.” 

“Ye’re right, young man — ye’re right,” said the Bailie, io 
“Aye take the counsel of those who are aulder and wiser 
than yoursell, and binna like the godless Rehoboam, 0 who 
took the advice o’ a wheen beardless callants, neglecting 
the auld counselors who had sate at the feet o’ his father 
Solomon, and, as it was weel put by Mr. Meiklejohn, in 15 
his lecture on the chapter, were doubtless partakers of his 
sapience. But I maun hear naething about honor — we 
ken naething here but about credit. Honor is a homicide 
and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the 
street ; but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame 20 
and makes the pat play.” 

“Assuredly, Mr. Jarvie,” said our friend Owen, “credit 
is the sum total; and if we can but save that, at whatever 
discount” 

“Ye are right, Mr. Owen — ye are right; ye speak weel 25 
and wisely; and I trust bowls will row right, though they 
are a wee ajee e’enow. But touching Robin, I am of opinion 
he will befriend this young man if it is in his power. He has 
a gude heart, puir Robin ; and though I lost a matter o’ twa 
hundred punds wi’ his former engagements, and haena muckle 30 
expectation ever to see back my thousand punds Scots 
that he promises me e’enow, yet I will never say but what 
Robin means fair by a’ men.” 


246 


ROB ROY 


“I am then to consider him,” I replied, “as an honest 
man?” 

“Umph!” replied Jarvie, with a precautionary sort of 
cough — “Ay, he has a land o’ Hieland honesty — he’s 
5 honest after a sort, as they say. My father the deacon used 
aye to laugh when he tauld me how that by- word came up. 
Ane Captain Costlett was cracking crouse about his loyalty 
to King Charles, 0 and Clerk Pettigrew (ye’ll hae heard mony 
a tale about him) asked him after what manner he served 
io the king, when he was fighting again him at Wor’ster in 
Cromwell’s army; and Captain Costlett was a ready body, 
and said that he served him after a sort . My honest father 
used to laugh weel at that sport — and sae the by-word 
came up.” 

15 “But do you think,” I said, “that this man will be able 
to serve me after a sort, or should I trust myself to this place 
of rendezvous which he has given me ? ” 

“Frankly and fairly, it’s worth trying. Ye see yoursell 
there’s some risk in your staying here. This bit body Morris 
20 has gotten a custom-house place doun at Greenock — that’s 
a port on the Firth doun by here; and tho’ a’ the world 
kens him to be but a twa-leggit creature, wi’ a goose’s head 
and a hen’s heart, that goes about on the quay plaguing 
folk about permits, and cockits, and dockits, and a’ that 
25 vexatious trade, yet if he lodge an information — ou, nae 
doubt a man in magisterial duty maun attend to it, and ye 
might come to be clapped up between four wa’s, whilk wad 
be ill-convenient to your father’s affairs.” 

“True,” I observed; “yet what service am I likely to 
30 render him by leaving Glasgow, which, it is probable, will 
be the principal scene of Rashleigh’s machinations, and 
committing myself to the doubtful faith of a man of whom I 
know little but that he fears justice, and has doubtless good 


ROB ROY 


247 


reasons for doing so ; and that, for some secret, and probably 
dangerous purpose, he is in close league and alliance with 
the very person who is like to be the author of our ruin ? ” 

“Ah, but ye judge Rob hardly/’ said the Bailie, “ye judge 
him hardly, puir chield ; and the truth is, that ye ken naething 5 
about our hill country, or Hielands, as we ca’ them. They 
are clean anither set frae the like o’ huz ; — there’s nae bailie- 
courts amang them — nae magistrates that dinna bear the 
sword in vain, like the worthy deacon that’s awa’, and, 

I may say’t, like mysell and other present magistrates in 10 
this city — But it’s just the laird’s command, and the loon 
maun loup; and the never another law hae they but the 
length o’ their dirks — the broadsword’s pursuer, or plaintiff, 
as you Englishers ca’ it, and the target is defender; the 
stoutest head bears langest out; — and there’s a Hieland 15 
plea for ye.” 

Owen groaned deeply; and I allow that the description 
did not greatly increase my desire to trust myself in a country 
so lawless as he described these Scottish mountains. 

“Now, sir,” said Jarvie, “we speak little o’ thae things, 20 
because they are familiar to oursells; and where’s the use 
o’ vilifying ane’s country, and bringing a discredit on ane’s 
kin, before southrons and strangers? It’s an ill bird that 
files its ain nest.” 

“Well, sir, but as it is no impertinent curiosity of mine, 25 
but real necessity, that obliges me to make these inquiries, 

I hope you will not be offended at my pressing for a little 
farther information. I have to deal, on my father’s account, 
with several gentlemen of these wild countries, and I must 
trust your good sense and experience for the requisite lights 30 
upon the subject.” 

This little morsel of flattery was not thrown out in vain. 

“Experience!” said the Bailie — “I hae had experience, 


248 


ROB ROY 


riae doubt, and I hae made some calculations — Ay, and to 
speak quietly amang ourselis, I hae made some perquisitions 
through Andrew Wylie, my auld clerk ; he’s wi’ MacVittie & 
Co. now — but he whiles drinks a gill on the Saturday after- 
5 noons wi’ his auld master. And since ye say ye are willing 
to be guided by the Glasgow weaver-body’s advice, I am 
no the man that will refuse it to - the son of an auld corre- 
spondent, and my father the deacon was nane sic afore me. 
I have whiles thought o’ letting my lights burn before the 
io Duke of Argyle, or his brother Lord Ilay° (for wherefore 
should they be hidden under a bushel?), 0 but the like o’ thae 
grit men wadna mind the like o’ me, a puir wabster body — 
they think mair o’ wha says a thing, than o’ what the thing 
is that’s said. The mair’s the pity — mair’s the pity. Not 
15 that I wad speak ony ill of this MacCallum More — ‘Curse 
not the rich in your bedchamber,’ saith the son of Sirach, 0 ‘for 
a bird of the air shall carry the clatter, and pint-stoups hae 
lang lugs.’” 

I interrupted these prolegomena, in which Mr. Jarvie 
20 was apt to be somewhat diffuse, by praying him to rely 
upon Mr. Owen and myself as perfectly secret and safe 
confidants. 

“It’s no for that,” he replied, “for I fear nae man — what 
for suld I ? — I speak nae treason — Only thae Hielandmen 
25 hae lang grips, and I whilesgang a wee bit up the glens to see 
some auld kinsfolks, and I wadna willingly be in bad blude 
wi’ ony o’ their clans. Howsumever, to proceed — ye maun 
understand I found my remarks on figures, whilk as Mr. 
Owen here weel kens, is the only true demonstrable root of 
30 human knowledge.” 

Owen readily assented to a proposition so much in his 
own way, and our orator proceeded. 

“These Hielands of ours, as we ca’ them, gentlemen, are 


ROB ROY 


249 


but a wild kind of warld by themsells, full of heights and 
howes, woods, caverns, lochs, rivers, and mountains, that 
it wad tire the very deevil’s wing to flee to the tap o’ them. 
And in this country, and in the isles, whilk are little better, 
or, to speak the truth, rather waur than the mainland, there 5 
are about twa hunder and thirty parochines, including the 
Orkneys , 0 where, whether they speak Gaelic 0 or no I wotna, 
but they are an uncivilized people. Now, sirs, I sail haud 
ilk parochine at the moderate estimate of eight hunder 
examinable persons, deducting children under nine years of 10 
age, and then adding one-fifth to stand for bairns of nine 
years auld, and under, the whole population will reach to 
the sum of — let us add one-fifth to 800 to be the multiplier, 
and 230 being the multiplicand” — 

“The product,” said Mr. Owen, who entered delightedly 1 5 
into these statistics of Mr. Jarvie, “will be 230,000.” 

“Right, sir — perfectly right; and the military array of 
this Hieland country, were a’ the men-folk between aughteen 
and fifty-six brought out that could bear arms, couldna come 
weel short of fifty-seven thousand five hundred men. Now, 20 
sir, it’s a sad and awfu’ truth, that there is neither wark, nor 
the very fashion nor appearance of wark, for the tae half 
of thae puir creatures; that is to say, that the agriculture, 
the pasturage, the fisheries, and every species of honest indus- 
try about the country, cannot employ the one moiety of the 25 
population, let them work as lazily as they like, and they do 
work as if a pleugh or a spade burnt their fingers. Awefel, 

sir, this moiety of unemployed bodies, amounting to” 

“To one hundred and fifteen thousand souls,” said Owen, 
“being the half of the above product.” 30 

“Ye hae’t, Mr. Owen — ye hae’t — whereof there may 
be twenty-eight thousand seven hundred able-bodied gillies 
fit to bear arms, and that do bear arms, and will touch or 


250 


ROB ROY 


look at nae honest means of livelihood even if they could get 
it — which, lack-a-day ! they cannot.” 

“But is it possible,” said I, “Mr. Jarvie, that this can 
be a just picture of so large a portion of the island of Britain ? ” 
S “Sir, I’ll make it as plain as Peter Pasley’s pike-staff. I 
will allow that ilk parochine, on an average, employs fifty 
pleughs, whilk is a great proportion in sic miserable soil as 
thae' creatures hae to labor, and that there may be pasture 
eneugh for pleugh-horses, and owsen, and forty or fifty cows ; 
io now, to take care o’ the pleughs and cattle, we’se allow seventy- 
five families of six lives in ilk family, and we’se add fifty 
mair to make even numbers, and ye hae five hundred souls, 
the tae half o’ the population, employed and maintained in a 
sort o’ fashion, wi’ some chance of sour-milk and crowdie; 
i s but I wad be glad to ken what the other five hunder are to 
do?” 

“In the name of God!” said I, “what do they do, Mr. 
Jarvie? It makes me shudder to think of their situation.” 

“Sir,” replied the Bailie, “ye wad maybe shudder mair 
20 if ye were living near hand them. For, admitting that the 
tae half of them may make some little thing for themsells 
honestly in the Lowlands by shearing in harst, droving, hay- 
making, and the like ; ye hae still mony hundreds and thou- 
sands o’ lang-legged Hieland gillies that will neither work nor 
25 want, and maun gang thigging and sorning 0 about on their 
acquaintance, or live by doing the laird’s bidding, be’t right 
or be’t wrang. And mair especially, mony hundreds o’ them 
come down to the borders of the low country, where there’s 
gear to grip, and live by stealing, reiving, lifting cows, and 
30 the like depredations — a thing deplorable in ony Christian 
country ! — the mair especially, that they take pride in 
it, and reckon driving a spreagh (whilk is, in plain Scotch, 
stealing a herd of nowte) a gallant, manly action, and mair 


ROB ROY 


251 


befitting of pretty 0 men (as sic reivers will ca’ themselves)* 
than to win a day’s wage by ony honest thrift. And the 
lairds are as bad as the loons ; for if they dinna bid them gae 
reive and harry, the deil a bit they forbid them; and they 
shelter them, or let them shelter themselves, in their woods 5 
and mountains, and strongholds, whenever the thing’s dune. 
And every ane o’ them will maintain as mony o’ his ane name, 
or his clan, as we say, as he can rap and rend means for; 
or, whilk’s the same thing, as mony as can in ony fashion, fair 
or foul, mainteen themsells. And there they are wi’ gun 10 
and pistol, dirk and dourlach, ready to disturb the peace o’ the 
country whenever the laird likes; and that’s the grievance 
of the Hielands, whilk are, and hae been for this thousand 
years by-past, a bike o’ the maist lawless unchristian limmers 
that ever disturbed a douce, quiet, God-fearing neighborhood, 15 
like this o’ ours in the west here.” 

“And this kinsman of yours, and friend of mine, is he one 
of those great proprietors who maintain the household troops 
you speak of?” I inquired. 

“Na, na,” said Bailie Jarvie; “he’s name o’ your great 20 
grandees o’ chiefs, as they ca’ them, neither. Though he 
is weel born, and lineally descended frae auld Glenstrae 0 — 

I ken his lineage — indeed he is a near kinsman, and, as I 
said, of gude gentle Hieland blude, though ye may think weel 
that I care little about that nonsense — it’s a’ moonshine 25 
in water — ■ waste threads and thrums, as we say — But I 
could show ye letters frae his father, that was the third 
aff Glenstrae, to my father Deacon Jarvie (peace be wi’ his 
memory !) beginning, Dear Deacon, and ending, your loving 
kinsman to command, — they are amaist a’ about borrowed 30 
siller, sae the gude deacon, that’s dead and gane, keepit them 
as documents and evidents — He was a carefu’ man.” 

“But if he is not,” I resumed, “one of their chiefs or 


252 


ROB ROY 


patriarchal leaders, whom I have heard my father talk of, 
this kinsman of yours has, at least, much to say in the High- 
lands, I presume?” 

“Ye may say that — nae name better ken’d between the 
5 Lennox and Breadalbane. 0 Robin was ance a weel-doing, 
painstaking drover, as ye wad see amang ten thousand — It 
was a pleasure to see him in his belted plaid and brogues, 
wi’ his target at his back, and claymore and dirk at his belt, 
following a hundred Highland stots, and a dozen o’ the gillies, 
io as rough and ragged as the beasts they drave. And he was 
baith civil and just in his dealings; and if he thought his 
chapman had made a hard bargain, he wad gie him a luck- 
penny to the mends. I hae ken’d him gie back five shillings 
out o’ the pund sterling.” 

15 “Twenty-five per cent,” said Owen — “a heavy discount.” 

“He wad gie it though, sir, as I tell ye; mair especially 
if he thought the buyer was a puir man, and couldna stand 
by a loss. But the times cam hard, and Rob was venture- 
some. It wasna my faut — it wasna my faut ; he canna wyte 
20 me — I aye tauld him o’t — And the creditors, mair espe- 
cially some grit neighbors o’ his, gripped to his living and 
land; and they say his wife was turned out o’ the house to 
the hill-side, and sair misguided to the boot. Shamefu’ ! 
shamefu’ ! — I am a peacefu’ man and a magistrate, but 
25 if ony one had guided sae muckle as my servant quean, 
Mattie, as it’s like they guided Rob’s wife, I think it suld 
hae set the shabble 0 that my father the deacon had at Both- 
well brig a-walking again. Weel, Rob cam hame, and fand 
desolation, God pity us! where he left plenty; he looked 
30 east, west, south, north, and saw neither hauld nor hope — 
neither beild nor shelter; sae he e’en pu’d the bonnet ower 
his brow, belted the broadsword to his side, took to the brae- 
side, and became a broken man.”° 


ROB ROY 


253 


The voice of the good citizen was broken by his contending 
feelings. He obviously, while he professed to contemn the 
pedigree of his Highland kinsman, attached a secret feeling 
of consequence to the connection, and he spoke of his friend 
in his prosperity with an overflow of affection, which deep- 5 
ened his sympathy for his misfortunes, and his regret for 
their consequences. 

“ Thus tempted and urged by despair,” said I, seeing Mr. 
Jarvie did not proceed in his narrative, “ I suppose your 
kinsman became one of those depredators you have described 10 
to us?” 

“No sae bad as that,” said the Glaswegian, — “no a’the- 
gither and outright sae bad as that ; but he became a levier 
of blackmail, 0 wider and farther than ever it was raised in 
our day, a’ through the Lennox and Menteith, and up to 15 
the gates o’ Stirling Castle.” 0 

“Black-mail? — I do not understand the phrase,” I re- 
marked. 

“Ou, ye see, Rob soon gathered an unco band o’ blue- 
bonnets at his back, for he comes o’ a rough name when he’s 20 
kent by his ain, and a name that’s held its ain for mony a 
lang year, baith again king and parliament, and kirk too, 
for aught I ken — an auld and honorable name, for as sair 
as it has been worried and hadden down and oppressed. 
My mother was a MacGregor — I carena wha kens it — 25 
And Rob had soon a gallant band ; and as it grieved him (he 
said) to see sic hership and waste and depredation to the 
south o’ the Hieland line, why, if ony heritor or farmer wad 
pay him four punds Scots out of each hundred punds of 
valued rent, whilk was doubtless a moderate consideration, 30 
Rob engaged to keep them scaithless ; — let them send to 
him if they lost sae muckle as a single cloot by thieving, and 
Rob engaged to get them again, or pay the value — and he 


254 


ROB ROY 


aye keepit his word — I canna deny but he keepit his word 
— a’ men allow Rob keeps his word .” 0 

“This is a very singular contract of assurance,” said Mr. 
Owen. 

5 “It’s clean again our statute law, that must be owned,” 
said Jarvie, “clean again law; the levying and the paying 
black-mail are baith punishable : but if the law canna pro- 
tect my barn and byre, whatfor suld I no engage wi’ a Hie- 
land gentleman that can? — answer me that.” 
io “But,” said I, “Mr. Jarvie, is this contract of black-mail, 
as you call it, completely voluntary on the part of the land- 
lord or farmer who pays the insurance? or what usually 
happens, in case any one refuses payment of this tribute?” 

“Aha, lad!” said the Bailie, laughing, and putting his 
! I, finger to his nose, “ye think ye hae me there. Troth, I wad 
advise ony friends o’ mine to gree wi’ Rob ; for, watch as they 
like, and do what they like, they are sair apt to be harried 0 
when the lang nights come on. Some o’ the Grahame and 
Cohoon gentry stood out ; but what then ? — they lost their 
2 ohaill stock the first winter; sae maist folks now think it 
best to come into Rob’s terms. He’s easy wi’ a’ body that 
will be easy wi’ him; but if ye thraw him, ye had better 
thraw the deevil.” 

“And by his exploits in these vocations,” I continued, 
25 “I suppose he has rendered himself amenable to the laws 
of the country ? ” 

“Amenable? — ye may say that; his craig wad ken the 
weight o’ his hurdies 0 if they could get haud o’ Rob. But 
he has gude friends amang the grit folks; and I could tell 
30 ye o’ ae grit family that keeps him up as far as they decently 
can, to be a thorn in the side of another. And then he’s sic 
an auld-farran lang-headed chieid as never took up the trade 
o’ cateran in our time ; mony a daft reik he has played — mair 


ROB ROY 


255 


than wad fill a book, and a queer ane it wad be — as gude 
as Robin Hood,° or William Wallace 0 — a’ fu’ o’ venturesome 
deeds and escapes, sic as folk tell ower at a winter ingle in the 
daft days. It’s a queer thing o’ me, gentlemen, that am a 
man o’ peace mysell, and a peaceful’ man’s son — for the 5 
deacon my father quarrelled wi’ nane out o’ the town-council 

— it’s a queer thing, I say, but I think the Hieland blude 
o’ me warms at thae daft tales, and whiles I like better to 
hear them than a word o’ profit, gude forgie me ! But they 
are vanities — sinfu’ vanities — and, moreover, again the 10 
statute law — again the statute and gospel law.” 

I now followed up my investigation, by inquiring what 
means of influence this Mr. Robert Campbell could possibly 
possess over my affairs, or those of my father. 

“Why, ye are to understand,” said Mr. Jarvie in a very 15 
subdued tone — “I speak amang friends, and under the rose 

— Ye are to understand, that the Hielands hae been keepit 
quiet since the year aughty-nine — that was Killiecrankie 
year. 0 But how hae they been keepit quiet, think ye? By 
siller, Mr. Owen — by siller, Mr. Osbaldistone. King Wil- 20 
liam caused Breadalbane distribute twenty thousand gude 
punds sterling amang them, and it’s said the auld Hieland 
Earl keepit a lang lug o’t in his ain sporran. And then 
Queen Anne, that’s dead, gae the chiefs bits o’ pensions, sae 
they had wherewith to support their gillies and caterans 25 
that work nae wark, as I said afore ; and they lay by quiet 
eneugh, saving some spreagherie on the Lowlands, whilk 

is their use and wont, and some cutting o’ thrapples amang 
themsells, that nae civilized body kens or cares onything 
anent. — Weel, but there’s a new warld come up wi’ this 30 
King George 0 (I say, God bless him, for ane) — there’s neither 
like to be siller nor pensions gaun amang them; they haena 
the means o’ mainteening the clans that eat them up, as 


256 


ROB ROY 


ye may guess frae what I said before; their credit’s gane in 
the Lowlands ; and a man that can whistle ye up a thousand 
or feifteen hundred linking lads to do his will, wad hardly 
get fifty punds on his band at the Cross o’ Glasgow — This 
5 canna stand lang — there will be an outbreak for the Stuarts 

— there will be an outbreak 0 — they will come down on the 
low country like a flood, as they did in the waefu’ wars o’ 
Montrose, 0 and that will be seen and heard tell o’ ere a 
twalmonth gangs round.” 

io “Yet still,” I said, “I do not see how this concerns Mr. 
Campbell, much less my father’s affairs.” 

“Rob can levy five hundred men, sir, and therefore war 
suld concern him as muckle as maist folk,” replied the Bailie ; 
“for it is a faculty that is far less profitable in time o’ peace. 

15 Then, to tell ye the truth, I doubt he has been the prime agent 
between some o’ our Hieland chiefs and the gentlemen in 
the north o’ England. We a’ heard o’ the public money that 
was taen frae the chield Morris somewhere about the fit o’ 
Cheviot by Rob and ane o’ the Osbaldistone lads; and, to 

70 tell ye the truth, word gaed that it was yoursell, Mr.. Francis, 

— and sorry was I that your father’s son suld hae taen to 
sic practices — Na, ye needna say a word about it — I see 
weel I was mistaen ; but I wad believe onything o’ a stage- 
player, whilk I concluded ye to be. But now, I doubtna, 

25 it has been Rashleigh himsell or some other o’ your cousins 

— they are a’ tarred wi’ the same stick — rank Jacobites 
and papists, and wad think the government siller and govern- 
ment papers lawfu’ prize. And the creature Morris is sic 
a cowardly caitiff, that to this hour he daurna say that it 

30 was Rob took the portmanteau aff him ; and troth he’s right, 
for your custom-house and excise cattle are ill liket on a’ 
sides, and Rob might get a backhanded lick at him, before 
the Board, as they ca’t, could help him.” 


ROB ROY 257 

“I have long suspected this, Mr. Jarvie,” said I, “and 
perfectly agree with you. But as to my father’s affairs” 

“Suspected it? — it’s certain — it’s certain — I ken 
them that saw some of the papers that were taen aff Morris 
— ■ it’s needless to say where. But to your father’s affairs — 5 
Ye maun think that in thae twenty years by-gane, some o’ 
the Hieland lairds and chiefs hae come to some sma’ sense o’ 
their ain interest — your father and others hae bought the 
woods of Glen-Disseries, Glen Kissoch, Tober-na-Kippoch, 
and mony mair besides, and your father’s house has granted 10 
large bills in payment, — and as the credit o’ Osbaldistone 
and Tresham was gude — for I’ll say before Mr. Owen’s face, 
as I wad behind his back, that, bating misfortunes o’ the 
Lord’s sending, nae men could be mair honorable in business 
— the Hieland gentlemen, holders o’ thae bills, hae found 15 
credit in Glasgow and Edinburgh — (I might amaist say 
in Glasgow wholly, for it’s little the pridefu’ Edinburgh folk 
do in real business) — for all, or the greater part of the con- 
tents o’ thae bills. So that — Aha! d’ye see me now?” 

I confessed I could not quite follow his drift. 20 

“Why,” said he, “if these bills are not paid, the Glasgow 
merchant comes on the Hieland lairds, whae hae deil a 
boddle o’ siller, and will like ill to spew up what is item a’ 
spent — They will turn desperate — five hundred will 
rise that might hae sitten at hame — the deil will gae ower 25 
Jock Wabster 0 — and the stopping of your father’s house 
will hasten the outbreak that’s been sae lang biding us.” 

“You think, then,” said I, surprised at this singular view 
of the case, “that Rashleigh Osbaldistone has done this 
injury to my father, merely to accelerate a rising in the High- 30 
lands, by distressing the gentlemen to whom these bills 
were originally granted ? ” 

“Doubtless — doubtless — it has been one main reason, Mr. 
s 


258 


ROB ROY 


Osbaldistone. I doubtna but what the ready money he 
carried off wi’ him might be another. But that makes com- 
paratively but a sma’ part o’ your father’s loss, though it 
might make the maist part o’ Rashleigh’s direct gain. The 
5 assets he carried off are of nae mair use to him than if he were 
to light his pipe wi’ them. He tried if MacVittie & Co. wad 
gie him siller on them — that I ken by Andro Wylie — but 
they were ower auld cats to draw that strae afore them — 
they keepit aff, and gae fair words. Rashleigh Osbaldistone 
io is better ken’d than trusted in Glasgow, for he was here about 
some jacobitical papistical troking in seventeen hundred 
and seven, and left debt ahint him. Na, na — he canna pit 
aff the paper here; folk will misdoubt him how he came by 
it. Na, na — he’ll hae the stuff safe at some o’ their haulds 
15 in the Hielands, and I daur say my cousin Rob could get 
at it gin he liked.” 

“But would he be disposed to serve us in this pinch, Mr. 
Jarvie?” said I. “You have described him as an agent of 
the Jacobite party, and deeply connected in their intrigues : 
20 will he be disposed for my sake, or, if you please, for the sake 
of justice, to make an act of restitution, which, supposing 
it in his power, would, according to your view of the case, 
materially interfere with their plans?” 

“I canna preceesely speak to that: the grandees among 
25 them are doubtfu’ o’ Rob, and he’s doubtfu’ o’ them. — And 
he’s been weel friended wi’ the Argyle family, wha stand for 
the present model of government. If he was freed o’ his 
homings and captions, he would rather be on Argyle’s side 
than he wad be on Breadalbane’s, 0 for there’s auld ill-will 
30 between the Breadalbane family and his kin and name. The 
truth is, that Rob is for his ain hand, as Henry Wynd° feught 
— he’ll take the side that suits him best ; if the deil was laird, 
Rob wad be for being tenant; and ye canna blame him, 


ROB ROY 


259 


puir fallow, considering his circumstances. But there’s 
ae thing sair again ye — Rob has a grey mear in his stable 
at hame.” 

“A grey mare?” said I. “What is that to the purpose?” 

“The wife, man — the wife, — an awfu’ wife she is. 5 
She downa bide the sight o’ a kindly Scot, if he come 
frae the Lowlands, far less of an Inglisher, and she’ll 
be* keen for a’ that can set up King James, and ding 
down King George.” 

“It is very singular,” I replied, “that the mercantile 10 
transactions of London citizens should become involved with 
revolutions and rebellions.” 

“Not at a’, man — not at a’,” returned Mr. Jarvie ; “that’s 
a’ your silly prejudications. I read whiles in the lang dark 
nights, and I hae read in Baker’s Chronicle 0 that the mer- 15 
chants o’ London could gar the Bank of Genoa 0 break their 
promise to advance a mighty sum to the King o’ Spain, 
whereby the sailing of the Grand Spanish Armada 0 was put 
aff for a haill year — What think you of that, sir ? ” 

“That the merchants did their country golden service, 20 
which ought to be honorably remembered in our histories.” 

“I think sae too; and they wad do weel, and deserve 
weel baith o’ the state an o’ humanity, that wad save three 
or four honest Hieland gentlemen frae louping heads ower 
heels into destruction, wi’ a’ their puir sackless 0 followers, 25 
just because they canna pay back the siller they had reason 
to count upon as their ain — and save your father’s credit 
— and my ain gude siller that Osbaldistone and Tresham 
awes me into the bargain. I say, if ane could manage a’ 
this, I think it suld be done and said unto him, even if he 30 
were a puir ca’-the-shuttle body, as unto one whom the king 
delighteth to honor.” 

“I cannot pretend to estimate the extent of public 


260 


ROB ROY 


gratitude,” I replied; “but our own thankfulness, Mr. 
Jarvie, would be commensurate with the extent of the 
obligation.” 

“Which,” added Mr. Owen, “we would endeavor to bal- 
5 ance with a per contra , 0 the instant our Mr. Osbaldistone 
returns from Holland.” 

“I doubtna — I doubtna — he is a very worthy gentleman, 
and a sponsible, and wi’ some o’ my lights might do muckle 
business in Scotland — Weel, sir, if these assets could be 
io redeemed out o’ the hands o’ the Philistines, they are gude 
paper — they are the right stuff when they are in the right 
hands, and that’s yours, Mr. Owen. And I’se find ye three 
men in Glasgow, for as little as ye may think o’ us, Mr. Owen 
— that’s Sandie Steenson in the Trade’s-Land, and John 
is Pirie in Candleriggs, and another that sail be nameless at 
this present, sail advance what soums are sufficient to secure 
the credit of your house, and seek nae better security.” 

Owen’s eyes sparkled at this prospect of extrication ; 
but his countenance instantly fell on recollecting how im- 
20 probable it was that the recovery of the assets, as he techni- 
cally called them, should be successfully achieved. 

“Dinna despair, sir — dinna despair,” said Mr. Jarvie; 
“I hae taen sae muckle concern wi’ your affairs already, that 
it maun een be ower shoon ower boots wi’ me now. I am 
25 just like my father the deacon (praise be wi’ him!) I canna 
meddle wi’ a friend’s business, but I aye end wi’ making it my 
ain — Sae, I’ll e’en pit on my boots the morn, and be jogging 
ower Drymen Muir° wi’ Mr. Frank here ; and if I canna mak 
Rob hear reason, and his wife too, I dinna ken wha can. 
30 If Rob is an outlaw, to himsell be it said — there is nae laws 
now about reset 0 of inter-communed persons, as there was 
in the ill times o’ the last Stuarts — I trow I hae a Scotch 
tongue in my head — if they speak, I’se answer.” 


ROB ROY 


261 


I cheerfully acquiesced in Mr. Jarvie’s proposal that we 
should set out early next morning. Having agreed to meet 
him at five o’clock next morning, and having settled that 
Owen, whose presence could be of no use to us upon this 
expedition, should await our return at Glasgow, we took a 5 
kind farewell of this unexpectedly zealous friend. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


Far as the eye could reach no tree was seen, 

Earth, clad in russet, scorned the lively green ; 

No birds, except as birds of passage flew; 

No bee was heard to hum, no dove to coo ; 

No streams, as amber smooth — as amber clear, 

Were seen to glide, or heard to warble here. 

Prophecy of Famine . 0 

It was in the bracing atmosphere of a harvest morning, 
that I met by appointment Fairservidfe, with the horses, at 
the door of Mr. Jarvie’s house, which was but little space 
distant from Mrs. Flyter’s hotel. The first matter which 
5 caught my attention was, that whatever were the deficiencies 
of the pony which Mr. Fairservice’s legal adviser, Clerk 
Touthope, generously bestowed upon him in exchange for 
Thorncliff’s mare, he had contrived to part with it, and procure 
in its stead an animal with so curious and complete a lame- 
io ness, that it seemed only to make use of three legs for the 
purpose of progression, while the fourth appeared as if meant 
to be flourished in the air by way of accompaniment. “What 
do you mean by bringing such a creature as that here, sir? 
and where is the pony you rode to Glasgow upon ? ” were my 
15 very natural and impatient inquiries. 

“I sell’t it, sir. It was a slink beast, and wad hae eaten 
its head aff, standing at Luckie Flyter’s at livery. And 
I hae bought this on your honor’s account. It’s a grand 
bargain — cost but a pund sterling the foot — that’s four 

262 


ROB ROY 


263 


a’thegither. The stringhalt will gae aff when it’s gaen a 
mile ; it’s a weel-ken’d ganger ; they call it Souple Tam/’ 

“On my soul, sir,” said I, “you will never rest till my 
supple-jack and your shoulders become acquainted. If 
you do not go instantly and procure the other brute, you 5 
shall pay the penalty of your ingenuity.” 

Andrew, notwithstanding my threats, continued to battle 
the point, as he said it would cost him a guinea of rue-bargain 
to the man who had bought his pony, before he could get it 
back again. Like a true Englishman, though sensible I was 10 
duped by the rascal, I was about to pay his exaction rather 
than lose time, when forth sallied Mr. Jarvie, cloaked, man- 
tled, hooded, and booted, as if for a Siberian winter, while 
two apprentices, under the immediate direction of Mattie, 
led forth the decent ambling steed which had the honor on 15 
such occasions to support the person of the Glasgow magis- 
trate. Ere he “clombe to the saddle,” an expression more 
descriptive of the Bailie’s mode of mounting than that of 
the knights-errant to whom Spenser applies it, he inquired 
the cause of the dispute betwixt my servant and me. Hav- 20 
ing learned the nature of honest Andrew’s manoeuvre, he 
instantly cut short all debate, by pronouncing, that if Fair- 
service did not forthwith return the three-legged palfrey, and 
produce the more useful quadruped which he had discarded, 
he would send him to prison, and amerce him in half his 25 
wages. “Mr. Osbaldistone,” said he, “contracted for the 
service of both your horse and you — twa brutes at ance — 
ye unconscionable rascal ! — but I’se look weel after you 
during this journey.” 

“It will be nonsense fining me,” said Andrew, doughtily, 30 
“that hasna a grey groat to pay a fine wi’ — it’s ill taking the 
breeks aff a Hielandman.” 

“If ye hae nae purse to fine, ye hae flesh to pine,” replied 


264 


ROB ROY 


the Bailie, “and I will look weel to ye getting your deserts 
the tae way or the tither.” 

To the commands of Mr. Jarvie, therefore, Andrew was 
compelled to submit, only muttering between his teeth, 
S “Ower mony maisters, — ower mony maisters, as the 
paddock said to the harrow, when every tooth gae her 
a tig.” 

Apparently he found no difficulty in getting rid of Supple 
Tam, and recovering possession of his former Bucephalus, 
io for he accomplished the exchange without being many 
minutes absent; nor did I hear further of his having paid 
any smart-money for breach of bargain. 

We now set forward, but had not reached the top of the 
street in which Mr. Jarvie dwelt, when a loud hallooing and 
15 breathless call of “Stop, stop!” was heard behind us. We 
stopped accordingly, and were overtaken by Mr. Jarvie’s 
two lads, who bore two parting tokens of Mattie’s care for 
her master. The first was conveyed in the form of a volu- 
minous silk handkerchief, like the mainsail of one of his own 
20 West-Indiamen, which Mrs. Mattie particularly desired 
he would put about his neck, and which, thus entreated, he 
added to his other integuments. The second youngster 
brought only a verbal charge (I thought I saw the rogue 
disposed to laugh as he delivered it) on the part of the house- 
25 keeper, that her master would take care of the waters. “Pooh ! 
pooh! silly hussy,” answered Mr. Jarvie; but added, turn- 
ing to me, “it shows a kind heart though — it shows a kind 
heart in sae young a quean — Mattie’s a carefu’ lass.” So 
speaking, he pricked the sides of his palfrey, and we left the 
30 town without farther interruption. 

While we paced easily forward, by a road which conducted 
us north-eastward froiii the town, I had an opportunity to 
estimate and admire the good qualities of my new friend. 


ROB ROY 


265 


With much oddity and vulgarity of manner, — with a vanity 
which he*made much more ridiculous by disguising it now 
and then under a thin veil of humility, and devoid as he 
was of all the advantages of a learned education, Mr. Jarvie’s 
conversation showed tokens of a shrewd, observing, liberal, 5 
and, to the extent of its opportunities, a well-improved 
mind. He was a good local antiquary, and entertained me, 
as we passed along, with an account of remarkable events 
which had formerly taken place in the scenes through which 
we passed. And as he was well acquainted with the ancient 10 
history of his district, he saw with the prospective eye of 
an enlightened patriot, the buds of many of those future 
advantages which have only blossomed and ripened within 
these few years. I remarked also, and with great pleasure, 
that although a keen Scotchman, and abundantly zealous 15 
for the honor of his country, he was disposed to think liberally 
of the sister kingdom. When Andrew Fairservice (whom, by 
the way, the Bailie could not abide) chose to impute the 
accident of one of the horses casting his shoe to the deterio- 
rating influence of the Union, he inc urred a severe rebuke 20 
from Mr. Jarvie. 

“Whisht, sir! — whisht! it’s ill-scraped tongues like 
yours, that make mischief atween neighborhoods and na- 
tions. There’s naething sae gude on this side o’ time but 
it might hae been better, and that may be said o’ the Union. 25 
Nane were keener against it than the Glasgow folk, wi’ 
their rabblings and their risings, and their mobs, as they 
ca’ them now-a-days. But it’s an ill wind blaws naebody 
gude — Let ilka ane roose the ford as they find it — I say 
let Glasgow flourish! whilk is judiciously and elegantly 30 
putten round the town’s arms, by the way of by-word. — 
Now, since St. Mungo 0 catched herrings in the Clyde, what 
was ever like to gar us flourish like the sugar and tobacco 


266 


ROB ROY 


trade? Will onybody tell me that, and grumble at the 
treaty that opened us a road west-awa’ yonder?” , 

Andrew Fairservice was far from acquiescing in these argu- 
ments of expedience, and even ventured to enter a grumbling 
S protest, “That it was an unco change to hae Scotland’s laws 
made in England ; and* that, for his share, he wadna for a’ 
the herring-barrels in Glasgow, and a’ the tobacco-casks to 
boot, hae gien up the riding o’ the Scots Parliament, or sent 
awa’ our crown, and our sword, and our sceptre, and Mons 
io Meg,° to be keepit by thae English pock-puddings in the 
Tower o’ Lunnon. What wad Sir William Wallace, 0 or auld 
Davie Lindsay, 0 hae said to the Union, or them that made 
it?” " 

The road which we traveled, while diverting the way 
1 5 with these discussions, had become wild and open, as soon as 
we had left Glasgow a mile or two behind us, and was grow- 
ing more dreary as we advanced. Huge continuous heaths 
spread before, behind, and around us, in hopeless barrenness. 
Living thing we saw none, except occasionally a few straggling 
20 sheep of a strange diversity of colors, as black, bluish, and 
orange. The very birds seemed to shun these wastes, and 
no wonder, since they had an easy method of escaping from 
them ; — at least I only heard the monotonous and plaintive 
cries of the lapwing and curlew, which my companions de- 
25 nominated the peasweep and whaup. 

At dinner, however, which we took about noon, at a most 
miserable alehouse, we had the good fortune to find that 
these tiresome screamers of the morass were not the only 
inhabitants of the moors. The good-wife told us, that “the 
30 gudeman had been at the hill” ; and well for us that he had 
been so, for we enjoyed the produce of his chasse in the shape 
of some broiled moor-game, — a dish which gallantly eked 
out the ewe-milk cheese, dried salmon, and oaten bread, 


ROB ROY 


267 


being all besides that the house afforded. Soma very indiffer- 
ent two-penny ale, and a glass of excellent brandy, crowned 
our repast; and as our horses had, in the meantime, dis- 
cussed their corn, we resumed our journey with renovated 
vigor. 5 

Our road continued to be, if possible, more waste and wild 
than that we had traveled in the forenoon. The few miser- 
able hovels that showed some marks of human habitation, 
were now of still rarer occurrence; and at length, as we 
began to ascend an uninterrupted swell of moorland, they io 
totally disappeared. The only exercise which my imagina- 
tion received was, when some particular turn of the road 
gave us a partial view, to the left, of a large assemblage of 
dark-blue mountains stretching to the north and north- 
west. I made various inquiries of my friend Mr. Jarviei5 
respecting the names and positions of these remarkable 
mountains ; but it was a subject on which he had no infor- 
mation, or did not choose to be communicative. “ They’re 
the Hieland hills — the Hieland hills,” said he, — “Ye’ll see 
and hear eneugh about them before ye see Glasgow Cross 0 20 
again — I downa look at them — I never see them but 
they gar me grew. It’s no for fear — no for fear, but just 
for grief, for the puir blinded half-starved creatures that 
inhabit them — but say nae mair about it — it’s ill speaking 
o’ Hielandmen sae near the line. I hae ken’d mony an honest 25 
man wadna hae ventured this length without he had made his 
last will and testament — Mattie had ill-will to see me set 
awa’ on this ride, and grat awee, the sillie tawpie; but it’s 
nae mair ferlie to see a woman greet than to see a goose gang 
barefit.” 30 

I next attempted to lead the discourse on the character 
and history of the person whom we were going to visit ; but 
on this topic Mr. Jarvie was totally inaccessible, owing per- 


268 


ROB ROY 


haps in part to the attendance of Mr. Andrew Fairservice, 
who chose to keep so close in our rear that his ears could not 
fail to catch every word which was spoken, while his tongue 
assumed the freedom of mingling in our conversation as often 
5 as he saw an opportunity. For this he occasionally incurred 
Mr. Jarvie’s reproof. 

“Keep back, sir, as best sets ye,” said the Bailie, as Andrew 
pressed forward to catch the answer to some question I had 
asked about Campbell ; — “ye wad fain ride the fore-horse, 
ioan ye wist how. — That chield’s aye for being out o’ the 
cheese-fat he was moulded in. — Now, as for your questions, 
Mr. Osbaldistone, now that chield’s out of ear-shot, I’ll 
just tell you it’s free to you to speer, and it’s free to me to 
answer, or no — Gude I canna say muckle o’ Rob, puir 
15 chield ; ill I winna say o’ him, for, forby that he’s my cousin, 
we’re coming near his ain country, and there may be ane o’ 
his gillies ahint every whin-bush, for what I ken — And if ye’ll 
be guided by my advice, the less ye speak about him, or where 
we are gaun, or what we are gaun to do, we’ll be the mair 
20 likely to speed us in our errand. For it’s like we may fa’ 
in wi’ some o’ his unfreends — there are e’en ower mony o’ 
them about — and his bonnet sits even on his brow yet 
for a’ that; but I doubt they’ll be upsides wi’ Rob at 
the last — air day or late day, the fox’s hide finds aye the 
25 flaying knife.” 

“I will certainly,” I replied, “be entirely guided by your 
experience.” 

“Right, Mr. Osbaldistone — right. But I maun speak 
to this gabbling skyte too, for bairns and fules speak at the 
30 Cross what they hear at the ingle-side. — D’ye hear, you, 
Andrew — what’s your name ? — Fairservice ! ” 

Andrew, who at the last rebuff had fallen a good way behind, 
did not choose to acknowledge the summons. 


ROB ROY 269 

“ Andrew, ye scoundrel!” repeated Mr. Jarvie; “here, 
sir! here!” s 

“Here is for the dog,” said Andrew, coming up sulkily. 

“I’ll gie you dog’s wages, ye rascal, if ye dinna attend to 
what I say t’ye — We are gaun into the Hielands a bit” 5 

“I judged as muckle,” said Andrew. 

“Haud your peace, ye knave, and hear what I have to 
say till ye — We are gaun a bit into the Hielands” 

“Ye tauld me sae already,” replied the incorrigible Andrew. 

“I’ll break your head,” said the Bailie, rising in wrath, 10 
“if ye dinna haud your tongue.” 

“A hadden tongue,” replied Andrew, “makes a slabbered 
mouth.” 

It was now necessary I should interfere, which I did by 
commanding Andrew, with an authoritative tone, to be 1 5 
silent at his peril. 

“I am silent,” said Andrew. “I’se do a’ your lawfu’ bid- 
ding without a nay-say. My puir mother used aye to tell 
me, 

Be it better, be it worse, 20 

Be ruled by him that has the purse. 

Sae ye may e’en speak as lang as ye like, baith the tane and 
the tither o’ you, for Andrew.” 

Mr. Jarvie took the advantage of his stopping after quot- 
ing the above proverb, to give him the requisite instructions. 25 

“Now, sir, it’s as muckle as your life’s worth — that wad 
be dear o’ little siller, to be sure — but it is as muckle as a’ 
our lives are worth, if ye dinna mind what I sae to ye. In 
this public whar we are gaun to, and whar it is like we may 
hae to stay a’ night, men o’ a’ clans and kindred — Hie- 30 
land and Lawland — tak up their quarters — And whiles 
there are mair drawn dirks than open Bibles amang them, 


270 


ROB ROY 


when the usquebaugh gets uppermost. See ye neither meddle 
nor mak, nor gie nae offence wi’ that clavering tongue o’ 
yours, but keep a calm sough, and let ilka cock fight his ain 
battle.’ * 

5 “Muckle needs to tell me that,” said Andrew, contemptu- 
ously, “as if I had never seen a Hielandman before, and ken’d 
nae how to manage them. Nae man alive can cuitle up 
Donald better than mysell — I hae bought wi’ them, sauld 

wi’ them, eaten wi’ them, drucken wi’ them” 

io “Did ye ever fight wi’ them?” said Mr. Jarvie. 

“Na, na,” answered Andrew', “I took care o’ that: it 
wad ill hae set me, that am an artist and half a scholar to 
my trade, to be fighting amang a wheen kilted loons that 
dinna ken the name o’ a single herb or flower in braid Scots, 
15 let abee in the Latin tongue.” 

“Then,” said Mr. Jarvie, “as ye wad keep either your 
tongue in your mouth, or your lugs in your head (and ye 
might miss them, for as saucy members as they are), I charge 
ye to say nae word, gude or bad, that ye can weel get by, to 
20 onybody that may be in the Clachan. And ye’ll specially 
understand that ye’re no to be bleezing and blasting about 
your master’s name and mine, or saying that this is Mr. 
Bailie Nicol Jarvie o’ the Saut Market, son o’ the worthy 
Deacon Nicol Jarvie, that a’ body has heard about; and 
25 this is Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, son of the managing partner 
of the great house of Osbaldistone and Tresham, in the City.” 

“Eneuch said,” answered Andrew — “eneuch said. What 
need ye think I wad be speaking about your names for ? — 
I hae mony things o’ mair importance to speak about, I 
30 trow.” 

“It’s thae very things of importance that I am feared for, 
ye blethering goose; ye maunna speak ony thing, gude or 
bad, that ye can by any possibility help.” 


ROB ROY 


271 


“If ye dinna think me fit,” replied Andrew, in a huff, “to 
speak like ither folk, gie me my wages and my board-wages, 
and I’se gae back to Glasgow — There’s sma’ sorrow at 
our parting, as the auld mear said to the broken cart.” 

Finding Andrew’s perverseness again rising to a point 5 
which threatened to occasion me inconvenience, I was under 
the necessity of explaining to him, that he might return if he 
thought proper, but that in that case I would not pay him 
a single farthing for his past services. The argument ad 
crumenam , 0 as it has been called by jocular logicians, has 10 
weight with the greater part of mankind, and Andrew was in 
that particular far from affecting any trick of singularity. 
He “drew in his horns,” to use the Bailie’s phrase, on the 
instant, professed no intention whatever to disoblige, and a 
resolution to be guided by my commands, whatever they 15 
might be. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


Baron of Bucklivie, 

May the foul fiend drive ye, 

And a ’ to pieces rive ye, 

For building sic a town, 

Where there’s neither horse meat, nor man’s meat, nor a 
chair to sit down. 

Scottish Popular Rhymes on a Bad Inn. 

We found ourselves at length on the bank of a stream, 
which rather resembled one of my native English rivers 
than those I had hitherto seen in Scotland. It was narrows 
deep, still, and silent; although the imperfect light, as it 
5 gleamed on its placid waters, showed also that we were now 
among the lofty mountains which formed its cradle. “That’s 
the Forth,” said the Bailie, with an air of reverence, wdiich 
I have observed the Scotch usually pay to their distinguished 
rivers. The Clyde, the Tweed, 0 the Forth, the Spey,° are 
io usually named by those who dwell on their banks with a sort 
of respect and pride, and I have known duels occasioned by 
any word of disparagement. I cannot say I have the least 
quarrel with this sort of harmless enthusiasm. I received 
my friend’s communication with the importance which he 
15 seemed to think appertained to it. In fact, I was not a 
little pleased, after so long and dull a journey, to approach 
a region which promised to engage the imagination. My 
faithful squire, Andrew, did not seem to be quite of the 
same opinion, for he received the solemn information, “That 
20 is the Forth,” with a “Umph! — an he had said that’s the 
public-house, it wad hae been mair to the purpose.” 

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The Forth, however, as far as the imperfect light permitted 
me to judge, seemed to merit the admiration of those who 
claimed an interest in its stream. A beautiful eminence of 
the most regular round shape, and clothed with copsewood 
of hazels, mountain-ash, and dwarf-oak, intermixed with a 5 
few magnificent old trees, which, rising above the underwood, 
exposed their forked and bared branches to the silver moon- 
shine, seemed to protect the sources from which the river 
sprung. If I could trust the tale of my companion, which, 
while professing to disbelieve every word of it, he told under 10 
his breath, and with an air of something like intimidation, 
this hill, so regularly formed, so richly verdant, and garlanded 
with such a beautiful variety of ancient trees and thriving 
copsewood, was held by the neighborhood to contain, within 
its unseen caverns, the palaces of the fairies 0 — a race of airy 15 
beings, who formed an intermediate class between men and 
demons, and who, if not positively malignant to humanity, 
were yet to be avoided and feared, on account of their ca- 
pricious, vindictive, and irritable disposition. 

“They ca’ them,” said Mr. Jar vie, in a whisper, u Daoine 20 
Schie, — whilk signifies, as I understand, men of peace ; 
meaning thereby to make their gudewill. And we may e’en 
as weel ca’ them that too, Mr. Osbaldistone, for there’s nae 
gude in speaking ill o’ the laird within his ain bounds.” But 
he added presently after, on seeing one or two lights which 25 
twinkled before us, “It’s deceits o’ Satan, after a’, and I 
fearna to say it — for we are near the manse now, and yonder 
are the lights in the Clachan of Aberfoil.” 

I own I was well pleased at the circumstance to which 
Mr. Jarvie alluded; not so much that it set his tongue at 30 
liberty, in his opinion, with all safety to declare his real 
sentiment with respect to the Daoine Schie, or fairies, as that 
it promised some hours’ repose to ourselves and our horses, 

T 


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of which, after a ride of fifty miles and upward, both stood 
in some need. 

We crossed the infant Forth by an old-fashioned stone 
bridge, 0 very high and very narrow. My conductor, however, 
5 informed me, that to get through this deep and important 
stream, and to clear all its tributary dependencies, the 
general pass from the Highlands to the southward lay by 
what was called the Fords of Frew, at all times deep and 
difficult of passage, and often altogether unfordable. Be- 
io neath these fords, there was no pass of general resort until so 
far east as the bridge of Stirling; so that the river of Forth 
forms a defensible line between the Highlands and Lowlands 
of Scotland, from its source nearly to the Firth, or inlet of 
the ocean, in which it terminates. The subsequent events 
15 which we witnessed led me to recall with attention what the 
shrewdness of Bailie Jarvie suggested in his proverbial ex- 
pression, that “Forth bridles the wild Highlandman.” 

About half a mile’s riding, after we crossed the bridge, 
placed us at the door of the public-house where we were to 
20 pass the evening. It was a hovel rather worse than better 
than that in which we had dined ; but its little windows were 
lighted up, voices were heard from within, and all intimated 
a prospect of food and shelter, to which we were by no means 
indifferent. Andrew was the first to observe that there was 
25 a peeled willow- wand placed across the half -open door of the 
little inn. He hung back and advised us not to enter. “For,” 
said Andrew, “some of their chiefs and grit men are birling at 
the usquebaugh in by there, and dinna want to be disturbed ; 
and the least we’ll get, if we gang ramstam in on them, will 
30 be a broken head, to learn us better havings, if we dinna come 
by the length of a cauld dirk in our wame, whilk is just as 
likely.” 

I looked at the Bailie, who acknowledged, in a whisper, 


ROB ROY 


275 


“that the gowk had some reason for singing, ance in the 
year.” 

Meantime a staring half-clad wench or two came out of the 
inn and the neighboring cottages, on hearing the sound of our 
horses’ feet. No one bade us welcome, nor did any one offer 5 
to take our horses, from which we had alighted ; and to our 
various inquiries, the hopeless response of “Ha niel Sas- 
senach,” 0 was the only answer we could extract. The Bailie, 
however, found (in his experience) a way to make them speak 
English. “If I gie ye a bawbee,” said he to an urchin of 10 
about ten years old, with a fragment of a tattered plaid about 
him, “will you understand Sassenach?” 

“Ay; ay, that will I,” replied the brat, in very decent 
English. 

“Then gang and tell your mammy, my man, there’s twa 15 
Sassenach gentlemen come to speak wi’ her.” 

The landlady presently appeared, with a lighted piece of 
split fir blazing in her hand. She plainly refused to admit 
us into the house. We remonstrated anxiously, and pleaded 
the length of our journey, the state of our horses, and the 20 
certainty that there was not another place where we could 
be received nearer than Callander, 0 which the Bailie stated 
to be seven Scots miles distant. The obdurate hostess 
treated our expostulation with contempt. “Better gang 
farther than fare waur,” she said, speaking the Scottish 25 
Lowland dialect, and being indeed a native of the Lennox 
district — “Her house was taen up wi’ them wadna like to be 
intruded on wi’ strangers. She didna ken wha mair might be 
there — red-coats, it might be, frae the garrison.” (These 
last words she spoke under her breath, and with very strong 30 
emphasis.) “The night,” she said, “was fair abune head — a 
night amang the heather wad caller our bloods — we might 
sleep in our claes, as mony a gude blade does in the scabbard 


276 


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— there wasna muckle flowmoss in the shaw, if we took up 
our quarters right, and we might pit up our horses to the hill, 
naebody wad say naething against it.” 

“But, my good woman,” said I, while the Bailie groaned 
5 and remained undecided, “it is six hours since we dined, and 
we have not taken a morsel since. I am positively dying 
with hunger, and I have no taste for taking up my abode 
supperless among these mountains of yours. I positively 
must enter; and make the best apology you can to your 
io guests for adding a stranger or two to their number. An- 
drew, you will see the horses put up.” 

The Hecate 0 looked at me with surprise, and then ejacu- 
lated — “A wilfu’ man will hae his way — them that - will to 
Cupar 0 maun to Cupar ! — To see thae English bellygods ! 
15 he has had ae fu’ meal the day already, and he’ll venture life 
and liberty, rather than he’ll want a het supper ! Set roasted 
beef and pudding on the opposite side o’ the pit o’ Tophet, 0 
and an Englishman will mak a spang at it — But I wash my 
hands o’t — Follow me, sir” (to Andrew), “and I’se show ye 
20 where to pit the beasts.” 

I own I was somewhat dismayed at my landlady’s expres- 
sions, which seemed to be ominous of some approaching danger. 

The interior presented a view which seemed singular enough 
to southern eyes. The fire, fed with blazing turf and branches 
25 of dried wood, blazed merrily in the centre; but the smoke, 
having no means to escape but through a hole in the roof, 
eddied round the rafters of the cottage, and hung in sable folds 
at the height of about five feet from the floor. The space 
beneath was kept pretty clear by innumerable currents of air 
30 which rushed toward the fire from the broken panel of basket- 
work which served as a door — from two square holes, de- 
signed as ostensible windows, through one of which was thrust 
a plaid and through the other a tattered great-coat — and 


ROB ROY 


277 


moreover, through various less distinguishable apertures in 
the walls of the tenement, which, being built of round stones 
and turf, cemented by mud, let in the atmosphere at innumer- 
able crevices. 

At an old oaken table, adjoining to the fire, sat three men, 5 
guests apparently, whom it was impossible to regard with 
indifference. Two were in the Highland dress; the one, a 
little dark-complexioned man, with a lively, quick, and 
irritable expression of features, wore the trews, or close 
pantaloons wove out of a sort of chequered stuff. The Bailie 10 
whispered me, that “he behoved to be a man of some con- 
sequence, for that naebody but their Duinhewassels 0 wore 
the trews — they were ill to weave exactly to their Highland 
pleasure.” 

The other mountaineer was a very tall, strong man, with a 15 
quantity of reddish hair, freckled face, high cheek-bones, and 
long chin — a sort of caricature of the national features of 
Scotland. The tartan which he wore differed from that of his 
companion, as it had much more scarlet in it, whereas the 
shades of black and dark-green predominated in the chequers 20 
of the other. The third, who sate at the same table, was in 
the Lowland dress, — a bold, stout-looking man, with a cast 
of military daring in his eye and manner, his riding-dress 
showily and profusely laced, and his cocked hat of formidable 
dimensions. His hanger and a pair of pistols lay on the table 25 
before him. Each of the Highlanders had their naked dirks 
stuck upright in the board beside him, — an emblem, I was 
afterward informed, but surely a strange one, that their 
compotation was not to be interrupted by any brawl. A 
mighty pewter measure, containing about an English quart 30 
of usquebaugh, a liquor nearly as strong as brandy, which 
the Highlanders distil from malt, and drink undiluted in 
excessive quantities, was placed before these worthies. A 


278 


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broken glass, with a wooden foot, served as a drinking cup to 
the whole party, and circulated with a rapidity, which, 
considering the potency of the liquor, seemed absolutely 
marvelous. These men spoke loudly and eagerly together, 
5 sometimes in Gaelic, at other times in English. Another 
Highlander, wrapt in his plaid, reclined on the floor, his head 
resting on a stone, from which it was only separated by a wisp 
of straw, and slept or seemed to sleep, without attending to 
what was going on around him. He also was probably 
io a stranger, for he lay full dress, and accoutred with the sword 
and target, the usual arms of his countrymen when on a 
journey. Cribs there were of different dimensions beside 
the walls, formed, some of fractured boards, some of shattered 
wicker work or plaited boughs, in which slumbered the family 
15 of the house, men, women, and children, their places of repose 
only concealed by the dusky wreaths of vapor which arose 
above, below, and around them. 

Our entrance was made so quietly, and the carousers I have 
described were so eagerly engaged in their discussions, that 
20 we escaped their notice for a minute or two. But I observed 
the Highlander who lay beside the fire raise himself on his 
elbow as we entered, and, drawing his plaid over the lower 
part of his face, fix his look on us for a few seconds, after 
which he resumed his recumbent posture, and seemed again 
25 to betake himself to the repose which our entrance had 
interrupted. 

We advanced to the fire, which was an agreeable spectacle 
after our late ride, during the chilliness of an autumn evening 
among the mountains, and first attracted the attention of the 
30 guests who had preceded us, by calling for the landlady. 
She approached, looking doubtfully and timidly, now at us, 
now at the other party, and returned a hesitating and doubt- 
ful answer to our request to have something to eat. 


ROB ROY 


279 


“She didna ken,” she said, “she wasna sure there was ony- 
thing in the house,” and then modified her refusal with the 
qualification — “that is, onything fit for the like of us.” 

I assured her we were indifferent to the quality of our 
supper ; and looking round for the means of accommodations, 5 
which were not easily to be found, I arranged an old hen-coop 
as a seat for Mr. Jarvie, and turned down a broken tub to 
serve for my own. 

At length, the lesser Highlander, addressing himself to me 
said, in very good English, and in a tone of great haughtiness, 10 
“Ye make yourself at home, sir, I see.” 

“I usually do so,” I replied, “when I come into a house of 
public entertainment.” 

“And did she na see,” said the taller man, “by the white 
wand at the door, that gentlemans had taken up the public- 15 
house on their ain business?” 

“I do not pretend to understand the customs of this 
country ; but I am yet to learn,” I replied, “how three persons 
should be entitled to exclude all other travelers from the only 
place of shelter and refreshment for miles round.” 20 

“There’s nae reason for’t, gentlemen,” said the Bailie; 
“we mean nae offence — but there’s neither law nor reason 
for’t ; but as far as a stoup o’ glide brandy wad make up the 
quarrel, we, being peaceable folk, wad be willing.” 

“We desire neither your brandy nor your company,” said 25 
the Lowlander, adjusting his cocked hat fiercely upon his 
head ; and up he rose from his seat. His companions also rose 
muttering to each other, drawing up their plaids, and snorting 
and snuffing the air after the manner of their countrymen 
when working themselves into a passion. 30 

“I tauld ye what wad come, gentlemen,” said the landlady, 
“an ye wad hae been tauld: — get awa’ wi’ ye out o’ my 
house, and make nae disturbance here — there’s nae gentle- 


280 


ROB ROY 


man be disturbed at Jeanie MacAlpine’s an she can hinder. 
A wheen idle English loons, gaun about the country under 
cloud o’ night, and disturbing honest peaceable gentlemen 
that are drinking their drap drink at the fireside ! ” 

5 At another time I should have thought of the old Latin 
adage, 

“ Dat veniam 0 corvis, vexat censura columbas ” 

But I had not any time for classical quotation, for there was 
obviously a fray about to ensue, at which, feeling myself 
io indignant at the inhospitable insolence with which I was 
treated, I was totally indifferent, unless on the Bailie’s ac- 
count, whose person and qualities were ill qualified for such an 
adventure. I started up, however, on seeing the others rise, 
and dropped my cloak from my shoulders, that I might be 
15 ready to stand on the defensive. 

“We are three to three,” said the lesser Highlander, glanc- 
ing his eyes at our party : “if ye be pretty men, draw!” and 
unsheathing his broadsword, he advanced on me. I put 
myself in a posture of defence, and aware of the superiority 
20 of my weapon, a rapier or small-sword, was little afraid of the 
issue of the contest. The Bailie behaved with unexpected 
mettle. As he saw the gigantic Highlander confront him with 
his weapon drawn, he tugged for a second or two at the hilt 
of his shabble, as he called it; but finding it loth to quit the 
25 sheath, to which it had long been secured by rust and disuse, 
he seized, as a substitute, on the red-hot coulter 0 of a plough 
which had been employed in arranging the fire by way of a 
poker, and brandished it with such effect, that at the first 
pass he set the Highlander’s plaid on fire, and compelled him 
30 to keep a respectful distance till he could get it extinguished. 
Andrew, on the contrary, who ought to have faced the Low- 
land champion, had, I grieve to say it, vanished at the very 


ROB ROY 


281 


commencement of the fray. But his antagonist, crying, 
“Fair play, fair play!” seemed courteously disposed to take 
no share in the scuffle. Thus we commenced our rencontre 
on fair terms as to numbers. My own aim was, to possess 
myself, if possible, of my antagonist’s weapon ; but I was 5 
deterred from closing, for fear of the dirk which he held in his 
left hand, and used in parrying the thrusts of my rapier. 
Meantime the Bailie, notwithstanding the success of his first 
onset, was sorely bested. The weight of his weapon, the 
corpulence of his person, the very effervescence of his own 10 
passions, were rapidly exhausting both his strength and his 
breath, and he was almost at the mercy of his antagonist, 
when up started the sleeping Highlander from the floor on 
which he reclined, with his naked sword and target in his 
hand, and threw himself between the discomfited magistrate 1 5 
and his assailant, exclaiming, “Her nainsell has eaten the 
town pread at the Cross o’ Glasgow, and py her troth she’ll 
fight for Bailie Sharvie at the Clachan of Aberfoil — tat will 
she e’en!” And seconding his words with deeds, this unex- 
pected auxiliary made his sword whistle about the ears of his 20 
tall countryman, who, nothing abashed, returned his blows 
with interest. But being both accoutred with round targets 
made of wood, studded with brass, and covered with leather, 
with which they readily parried each other’s strokes, their 
combat was attended with much more noise and clatter than 25 
serious risk of damage. It appeared, indeed, that there was 
more of bravado than of serious attempt to do us any injury ; 
for the Lowland gentleman, who, as I mentioned, had stood 
aside for want of an antagonist when the brawl commenced, 
was now pleased to act the part of moderator and peacemaker. 3 o 
“Haud your hands ! haud your hands ! — eneugh done ! — 
eneugh done! the quarrel’s no mortal. The strange gentle- 
men have shown themselves men of honor, and gien reasonable 


282 


ROB ROY 


satisfaction. I’ll stand on mine honor as kittle as ony man, 
but I hate unnecessary bloodshed.” 

It was not, of course, my wish to protract the fray — my 
adversary seemed equally disposed to sheathe his sword — the 
5 Bailie, gasping for breath, might be considered as hors de 
combat , 0 and our two sword-and-buckler men gave up their 
contest with as much indifference as they had entered into it. 

“And now,” said the worthy gentleman who acted as 
umpire, “let us drink and gree like honest fellows — The 
io house will haud us a’. I propose that this good little gentle- 
man, that seems sair forfoughen, as I may say, in this tuilzie, 
shall send for a tass o’ brandy and I’ll pay for another, by way 
of archilowe, 0 and then we’ll birl our bawbees a’ round about, 
like brethren.” 

15 “And fa’s to pay my new ponnie plaid,” said the larger 
Highlander, “wi’ a hole burnt in’t ane might put a kail-pat 
through? Saw ever onybody a decent gentleman fight wi’ 
a firebrand before?” 

“Let that be nae hindrance,” said the Bailie, who had now 
20 recovered his breath, and was at once disposed to enjoy the 
triumph of having behaved with spirit, and avoid the necessity 
of again resorting to such hard and doubtful arbitrament; 
— “Gin I hae broken the head,” he said, “I sail find the 
plaister. A new plaid sail ye hae, and o’ the best — your 
2 5 ain clan-colors, man, — an ye will tell me where it can be sent 
t’ye frae Glasco.” 

“I needna name my clan — I am of a king’s clan, as is weel 
ken’d,” said the Highlander; “but ye may tak a bit o’ the 
plaid — figh ! she smells like a singit sheep’s head ! — and 
30 that’ll learn ye the sett — and a gentleman, that’s a cousin 
o’ my ain, that carries eggs doun frae Glencroe, 0 will ca’ for’t 
about Martimas, and ye will tell her where ye bide. But, 
honest gentleman, neist time ye fight, an ye hae ony respect 


ROB ROY 


283 


for your athversary, let it be wi’ your sword, man, since ye 
wear ane, and no wi’ thae hot culters and fireprands, like a 
wild Indian.” 

“Conscience!” replied the Bailie, “every man maun do as 
he dow. My sword hasna seen the light since Both well 5 
Brigg,° when my father that’s dead and gane, ware it; and 
I kenna weel if it was forthcoming then either, for the battle 
was o’ the briefest — At ony rate, it’s glued to the scabbard 
now beyond my power to part them ; and, finding that, I e’en 
grippit at the first thing I could make a fend wi’. I trow my 10 
fighting days is done, though I like ill to take the scorn, for 
a’ that. — But where’s the honest lad that tuik my quarrel 
on himsell sae frankly ? — I’se bestow a gill o’ aquavitae on 
him, an I suld never ca’ for anither.” 

The champion for whom he looked around, was, however, 15 
no longer to be seen. He had escaped unobserved by the 
Bailie, immediately when the brawl was ended, yet not before 
I had recognized, in his wild features and shaggy red hair, our 
acquaintance Dougal, the fugitive turnkey of the Glasgow 
jail. I communicated this observation in a whisper to the 20 
Bailie, who answered in the same tone, “Weel, weel, — I see 
that him that ye ken o’ said very right ; there is some glim- 
mering o’ common sense about that creature Dougal ; I maun 
see and think o’ something will do him some gude.” 

Thus saying, he sat down, and fetching one or two deep 25 
aspirations, by way of recovering his breath, called to the land- 
lady — “I think, Luckie, now that I find that there’s nae 
hole in my wame, whilk I had muckle reason to doubt frae 
the doings o’ your house, I wad be the better o’ something 
to pit intill’t.” 30 

The dame, who was all officiousness so soon as the storm 
had blown over, immediately undertook to broil something 
comfortable for our supper. Indeed, nothing surprised me 


284 


ROB ROY 


more, in the course of the whole matter, than the extreme 
calmness with which she and her household seemed to regard 
the martial tumult that had taken place. The good woman 
was only heard to call to some of her assistants — “Steek 
5 the door ! steek the door ! kill or be killed, let naebody pass 
out till they hae paid the lawin.” And as for the slumberers 
in those lairs by the wall, which served the family for beds, 
they only raised their shirtless bodies to look at the fray, 
ejaculated, “Oigh! oigh!” in the tone suitable to their re- 
io spective sex and ages, and were, I believe, fast asleep again, 
ere our swords were well returned to their scabbards. 

Our landlady, however, now made a great bustle to get some 
victuals ready, and, to my surprise, very soon began to prepare 
for us in the frying-pan a savory mess of venison collops, 
is which she dressed in a manner that might well satisfy hungry 
men, if not epicures. In the meantime the brandy was placed 
on the table, to which the Highlanders, however partial to 
their native strong waters, showed no objection, but much 
the contrary; and the Lowland gentleman, after the first 
20 cup had passed round, became desirous to know our profes- 
sion, and the object of our journey. 

“We are bits o’ Glasgow bodies, if it please your honor,” 
said the Bailie, with an affectation of great humility, “travel- 
ing to Stirling to get in some siller that is awing us.” 

25 The spokesman of the other party, snuffing up his breath 
through his nose, repeated the words with a sort of sneer ; — 
“You Glasgow tradesfolks hae naething to do but to gang frae 
the tae o’ the west o’ Scotland to the ither, to plague honest 
folks that may chance to be awee ahint the hand, like me.” 
30 “If our debtors were a’ sic honest gentlemen as I believe 
you to be, Garschattachin,” replied the Bailie, “conscience! 
we might save ourselves a labor, for they wad come to seek us.” 

“Eh! what! how!” exclaimed the person whom he had 


ROB ROY 


285 


addressed, — “as I shall live by bread (not forgetting beef 
and brandy), it’s my auld friend Nicol Jarvie, the best man 
that ever counted doun merks on a band till a distressed 
gentleman. Were ye na coming up my way? — were ye na 
coming up the Endrick 0 to Garschattachin?” 5 

“Troth no, Maister Galbraith,” replied the Bailie, “I had 
other eggs on the spit — and I thought ye wad be saying I 
cam to look about the annual rent that’s due on the bit 
heritable band that’s between us.” 

“Deil a word o’ business will you or I speak,” said the laird, 10 
“now that ye’re so near my country. To see how a trot-cosey 
and a joseph can disguise a man — that I suldna ken my suld 
feal friend the deacon!” 

“The Bailie, if ye please,” resumed my companion; “but 
I ken what gars ye mistak — the band was granted to my 1 5 
father that’s happy, and he was deacon; but his name was 
Nicol as weel as mine. I dinna mind that there’s been a pay- 
ment of principal sum or annual rent on it in my day, and 
doubtless that has made the mistake.” 

“Weel, the devil take the mistake and all that occasioned 20 
it!” replied Mr. Galbraith. “But I am glad ye are a bailie. 
Gentlemen, fill a brimmer — this is my excellent friend, 
Bailie Nicol Jarvie’s health — I ken’d him and his father 
these twenty years. Are ye a’ cleared kelty aff? — Fill 
anither. Here’s to his being sune provost — I say provost 25 
— Lord Provost Nicol Jarvie ! — and them that affirms 
there’s a* man walks the Hie-street o’ Glasgow that’s fitter 
for the office, they will do weel not to let me, Duncan Gal- 
braith of Garschattachin, hear them say sae — that’s all.” 
And therewith Duncan Galbraith martially cocked his hat, and 30 
placed it on one side of his head with an air of defiance. 

“I ken’d that Scant-o’-grace weel eneugh frae the very 
outset,” said the Bailie, in a whisper to me; “but when blude 


286 


ROB ROY 


was warm, and swords were out at ony rate, wha kens what 
way he might hae thought o’ paying his debts ? it will be lang 
or he does it in common form. But he’s an honest lad, and 
has a warm heart too; he disna come often to the Cross o’ 
5 Glasgow, but mony a buck and blackcock he sends us doun 
frae the hills. And I can want my siller weel eneugh. My 
father the deacon had a great regard for the family of Gars- 
chattachin.” 

Supper being now nearly ready, I looked round for Andrew 
io Fairservice; but that trusty follower had not been seen by 
any one since the beginning of the rencontre. The hostess, 
however, said that she believed our servant had gone into the 
stable, and offered to light me to the place, saying that “no 
entreaties of the bairns or hers could make him give any 
15 answer; and that truly she caredna to gang into the stable 
hersell at this hour. She was a lone woman, and it was weel 
ken’d how the Brownie 0 of Benye-gask guided the gudewife 
of Ardnagowan ; and it was aye judged there was a Brownie 
in our stable, which was just what garr’d me gie ower keeping 
20 an hostler.” 

As, however, she lighted me toward the miserable hovel into 
which they had crammed our unlucky steeds, to regale them- 
selves on hay, every fibre of which was as thick as an ordinary 
goose-quill, she plainly showed me that she had another 
25 reason for drawing me aside from the company than that 
which her words implied. “Read that,” she said, slipping 
a piece of paper into my hand, as we arrived at the door of 
the shed; “I bless God I am rid o’t. Between sogers and 
Saxons, and caterans and cattle-lifters, and hership and 
30 bluidshed, an honest woman wad live quieter in hell than on 
the Hieland line.” 

So saying, she put the pine-torch into my hand, and returned 
i nto the house. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


Bagpipes, not tyres, the Highland hills adorn. 

Maclean’s loud hollo, and MacGregor’s horn. 

John Cooyer's Reyly to Allan Ramsay. 

By the light of my torch, I deciphered the following billet, 
written on a wet, crumpled, and dirty piece of paper, and 
addressed — “For the honored hands of Mr. F. O., a Saxon 
young gentleman — These.” The contents were as follows : 

“Sir, < s 

“There are night-hawks abroad, so that I cannot give you 
and my respected kinsman, B. N. J., the meeting at the Cla- 
chan of Aberfoil, whilk was my purpose. I pray you to avoid 
unnecessary communication with those you may find there, 
as it may give future trouble. The person who gives you this io 
is faithful and may be trusted, and will guide you to a place 
where, God willing, I may safety give you the meeting, when 
I trust my kinsman and you will visit my poor house, where, 
in spite of my enemies, I can still promise sic cheer as ane 
Hielandman may gie his friends, and where we will drink a 15 
solemn health to a certain D. V., and look to certain affairs 
whilk I hope to be your aidance in; and I rest, as is wont 
among gentlemen, your servant to command, R. M. C.” 

My next business was to seek out Andrew Fairservice, 
whom I called several times by name, without receiving any 20 
answer. At length my repeated cries of “Andrew Fairservice ! 
Andrew! fool! ass! where are you?” produced a doleful 

287 


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ROB ROY 


“Here,” in a groaning tone, which might have been that of 
the Brownie itself. Guided by this sound, I advanced to 
the corner of a shed, where, ensconced in the angle of the wall, 
behind a barrel full of the feathers of all the fowls which had 
5 died in the cause of the public for a month past, I found the 
manful Andrew; and partly by force, partly by command 
and exhortation, compelled him forth into the open air. The 
first words he spoke were, “I am an honest lad, sir.” 

“Who the devil questions your honesty?” said I, “or what 
io have we to do with it at present? I desire you to come and 
attend us at supper.” 

“Yes,” reiterated Andrew, without apparently understand- 
ing what I said to him, “I am an honest lad, whatever the 
Bailie may say to the contrary. And I like your honor weel, 
15 for sae young a lad, and I wadna part wi’ ye lightly.” 

“What the deuce are you driving at now?” I replied. “Has 
not everything been settled again and again to your satis- 
faction? And are you to talk of leaving me every hour, 
without either rhyme or reason?” 

20 “Ay, — but I was only making fashion before,” replied 
Andrew ; “but it’s come on me in sair earnest now — Lose or 
win, I daur gae nae farther wi’ your honor; and if ye’ll tak 
my foolish advice, ye’ll bide by a broken tryste, rather than 
gang forward yoursell. I hae a sincere regard for ye, and I’m 
25 sure ye’ll be a credit to your friends if ye live to saw out your 
wild aits, and get some mair sense and steadiness — But I can 
follow ye nae farther, even if ye suld founder and perish from 
the way for lack of guidance and counsel. To gang into Rob 
Roy’s country is a mere tempting o’ Providence.” 

30 “Rob Roy?” said I, in some surprise; “I know no such 
person. What new trick is this, Andrew?” 

“It’s hard,” said Andrew — “very hard, that a man canna 
be believed when he speaks Heaven’s truth, because he’s 


ROB ROY 


289 


whiles owercome, and tells lees a little when there is necessary 
occasion. Ye needna ask whae Rob Roy is, the reiving lifter 
that he is — God forgie me ! I hope naebody hears us — when 
ye hae a letter frae him in your pouch. O, Maister Frank ! 
a’ your uncle’s follies, and a’ your cousin’s pliskies, were 5 
naething to this ! Drink clean cap out, like Sir Hildebrand ; 
begin the blessed morning with brandy sops, like Squire 
Percy; swagger, like Squire Thorncliff; rin wud amang the 
lasses, like Squire John; gamble, like Richard; win souls to 
the Pope and the deevil, like Rashleigh ; rive, rant, break the 10 
Sabbath, and do the Pope’s bidding, like them a’ put thegither 

— But, merciful Providence ! take care o’ your young bluid, 
and gang nae near Rob Roy ! ” 

He followed me with a dejected air into the house which 
was no longer in harmony, for I found Mr. Galbraith and 15 
my friend the Bailie high in dispute. 

“I’ll hear nae sic language,” said Mr. Jarvie, as I entered, 
“respecting the Duke o’ Argyle and the name o’ Campbell. 
He’s a worthy public-spirited nobleman, and a credit to the 
country, and a friend and benefactor to the trade o’ Glasgow.” 20 

“I’ll sae naething against MacCallum More and the Slioch- 
nan-Diarmid,”° said the lesser Highlander, laughing. “I live 
on the wrang side of Glencroe to quarrel with Inverara.” 0 

“Our loch ne’er saw the Cawmil lymphads,” 0 said the bigger 
Highlander. “She’ll speak her mind and fear naebody — 25 
She doesna value a Cawmil mair as a Cowan, 0 and ye may 
tell MacCallum More that Allan Iverach said sae — It’s a far 
cry to Lochow.” 0 

Mr. Galbraith, on whom the repeated pledges which he had 
quaffed had produced some influence, slapped his hand on the 30 
table with great force, and said, in a stern voice, “There’s a 
bloody debt due by that family, and they will pay it one day 

— The banes of a loyal and a gallant Grahame hae lang rattled 

u 


290 


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in their coffin for vengeance on thae Dukes of Guile 0 and Lords 
for Lorn. There ne’er was treason in Scotland but a Cawmil 
was at the bottom o’t ; and now that the wrang side’s upper- 
most, wha but the Cawmils for keeping down the right ? But 
5 this warld winna last lang, and it will be time to sharp the 
maiden 0 for shearing o’ craigs and thrapples. I hope to see 
the auld rusty lass linking at a bluidy harst again.” 

“For shame, Garschattachin ! ” exclaimed the Bailie; 
“fy for shame, sir ! Wad ye say sic things before a magis- 
io trate, and bring yoursell into trouble? — How d’ye think to 
mainteen your family and satisfy your creditors (mysell and 
others), if ye gang on in that wild way, which cannot but 
bring you under the law, to the prejudice of a’ that’s con- 
nected wi’ ye?” 

15 “D — n my creditors!” retorted the gallant Galbraith, 

“and you if ye be ane o’ them! I say there will be a new 
warld sune — And we shall hae nae Cawmils cocking their 
bonnet sae hie, and hounding their dogs where they daurna 
come themsells, nor protecting thieves, nor murderers, and 
20 oppressors, to harry and spoil better men and mair loyal clans 
than themsells.” 

The Bailie had a great mind to have continued the dispute, 
when the savory vapor of the broiled venison, which our land- 
lady now placed before us, proved so powerful a mediator, 
25 that he betook himself to his trencher with great eagerness, 
leaving the strangers to carry on the dispute among themselves. 

“And tat’s true,” said the taller Highlander — whose name 
I found was Stewart — “for we suldna be plagued and wor- 
ried here wi’ meetings to pit down Rob Roy, if the Cawmils 
30 didna gie him refutch. I was ane o’ thirty o’ my ain name — 
part Glenfinlas, 0 and part men that came down frae Appine. 0 
We shased the MacGregors as ye wad shase rae-deer, till we 
came into Glenfalloch’s 0 country, and the Cawmils raise, and 


ROB ROY 


291 


wadna let us pursue nae farder, and sae we lost our labor ; but 
her wad gie twa and a plack to be as near Rob as she was tat 
day.” 

It seemed to happen very unfortunately, that in every topic 
of discourse which these* warlike gentlemen introduced, my 5 
friend the Bailie found some matter of offence. “Ye’ll forgie 
me speaking my mind, sir; but ye wad maybe hae gien the 
best bowl in your bonnet to hae been as far awa’ frae Rob as 
ye are e’en now — Od ! my het pleugh-culter wad hae been 
naething to his claymore.” 10 

“She had better speak nae mair about her culter, or, by 
G — ! her will gar her eat her words, and twa handfuls o’ 
cauld steel to drive them ower wi’ ! ” And, with a most 
inauspicious and menacing look, the mountaineer laid his 
hand on his dagger. 15 

“We’ll hae nae quarrelling, Allan,” said his shorter com- 
panion; “and if the Glasgow gentleman has ony regard for 
Rob Roy, he’ll maybe see him in cauld irons the night, and 
playing tricks on a tow the morn ; for this country has been 
ower lang plagued wi’ him, and his race is near-hand run — 20 
And it’s time, Allan, we were ganging to our lads.” 

“Hout awa, Inverashalloch,” said Galbraith; — “Mind 
the auld saw, man — It’s a bauld moon,° quoth Bennygask 
— another pint, quoth Lesley ; — we’ll no start for another 
chappin.” 25 

“I hae had chappins eneugh,” said Inverashalloch; “I’ll 
drink my quart of usquebaugh or brandy wi’ ony honest fel- 
low, but the deil a drap mair when I hae wark to do in the 
morning. And, in my puir thinking, Garschattachin, ye had 
better be thinking to bring up your horsemen to the Clachan 30 
before day, that we may a’ start fair.” 

“What the deevil are ye in sic a hurry for?” said Gars- 
chattachin; “meat and mass never hindered wark. An it 


292 


ROB ROY 


had been my directing, deil a bit o’ me wad hae fashed ye to 
come down the glens to help us. The garrison and our ain 
horse could hae taen Rob Roy easily eneugh. There’s the 
hand,” he said, holding up his own, “should lay him on the 
5 green, and never ask a Hielandman o’ ye a’ for his help.” 

“Ye might hae loot us bide still where we were, then,” said 
Inverashalloch. “I didna come sixty miles without being 
sent for. But an ye’ll hae my opinion, I redd ye keep your 
mouth better steekit, if ye hope to speed. Shored folk live 
io lang, and sae may him ye ken o’. The way to catch a bird is 
no to fling your bannet at her. And also thae gentleman hae 
heard some things they suldna hae heard, an the brandy hadna 
been ower bauld for your brain, Major Galbraith. Ye needna 
cock your hat and bully wi’ me, man, for I will not bear it.” 
is “I hae said it,” said Galbraith, with a solemn air of drunken 
gravity, “that I will quarrel no more this night either with 
broadcloth or tartan. When I am off duty I’ll quarrel with 
you or ony man in the Hielands or Lowlands, but not on 
duty — no — no. I wish we heard o’ these red-coats. If it 
20 had been to do onything against King James, we wad hae 
seen them lang syne — but when it’s to keep the peace o’ 
the country they can lie as lound as their neighbors.” 

As he spoke we heard the measured footsteps of a body of 
infantry on the march ; and an officer, followed by two or three 
25 files of soldiers, entered the apartment. He spoke in an 
English accent, which was very pleasant to my ears, now so 
long accustomed tfc the varying brogue of the Highland and 
Lowland Scotch. — “ You are, I suppose, Major Galbraith, 
of the squadron of Lennox Militia, and these are the two 
30 Highland gentlemen with whom I was appointed to meet in 
this place?” 

They assented, and invited the officer to take some refresh- 
ments, which he declined. — “I have been too late, gentle- 


ROB ROY 


293 


men, and am desirous to make up time. I have orders 
to search for and arrest two persons guilty of treasonable 
practices.” 

“We’ll wash our hands o’ that,” said Inverashalloch. “I 
came here wi’ my men to fight against the red MacGregor that 5 
killed my cousin, seven times removed, Duncan MacLaren, 0 
in Invernenty ; but I will hae nothing to do touching honest 
gentlemen that may be gaun through the country on their ain 
business.” 

“Nor I neither,” said Iverach. 10 

Major Galbraith took up the matter more solemnly, and, 
premising his oration with a hiccup, spoke to the following 
purpose :° 

“I shall say nothing against King George, Captain, be- 
cause, as it happens, my commission may rin in his name — 15 
But one commission being good, sir, does not make another 
bad ; and some think that James may be just as good a name 
as George. There’s the king that is — and there’s the king 
that suld of right be — I say, an honest man may and suld 
be loyal to them both, Captain. But I am of the Lord 20 
Lieutenant’s opinion for the time, as it becomes a militia 
officer and a depute-lieutenant — and about treason and all 
that, it’s lost time to speak of it — least said is sunest 
mended.” 

“I am sorry to see how you have been employing your 25 
time, sir,” replied the English officer — as indeed the honest 
gentleman’s reasoning had a strong relish of the liquor he had 
been drinking — “and I could wish, sir, it had been otherwise 
on an occasion of this consequence. I would recommend to 
you to try to sleep for an hour. — Do these gentlemen belong 30 
to your party?” — looking at the Bailie and me, who, en- 
gaged in eating our supper, had paid little attention to the 
officer on his entrance. 


294 


ROB ROY 


“Travelers, sir,” said Galbraith — “lawful travelers by 
sea and land, as the prayerbook hath it.” 

“My instructions,” said the Captain, taking a light to sur- 
vey us closer, “are to place under arrest an elderly and a 
5 young person — and I think these gentlemen answer the 
description.” 

“Take care what you say, sir,” said Mr. Jarvie; “it shall 
not be your red coat nor your laced hat shall protect you, if 
you put any affront on me. I’se convene ye baith in an 
io action of scandal and false imprisonment — I am a free 
burgess and a magistrate o’ Glasgow; Nicol Jarvie is my 
name, sae was my father’s afore me — I am a bailie, be 
praised for the honor, and my father was a deacon.” 

“He was a prick-eared ciu*,” said Major Galbraith, “and 
is fought agane the King at Both well Brigg.” 

“He paid what he ought and what he bought, Mr. Gal- 
braith,” said the Bailie, “and was an honester man than ever 
stude on your shanks.” 

“I have no time to attend to all this,” said the officer; 
20 “I must positively detain you, gentlemen, unless you can 
produce some respectable security that you are loyal subjects.” 

“I desire to be carried before some civil magistrate,” said 
the Bailie — “the sherra or the judge of the bounds ; — I am 
not obliged to answer every red-coat that speers questions 
25 at me.” 

“Well, sir, I shall know how to manage you if you are 
silent — And you, sir” (to me), “what may your name be ? ” 

“Francis Osbaldistone, sir.” 

“What, a son of Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone of North- 
30 umberland?” 

“No, sir,” interrupted the Bailie; “a son of the great 
William Osbaldistone of the House of Osbaldistone and 
Tresham, Crane-Alley, London.” 


ROB ROY 


295 


“I am afraid, sir,” said the officer, ‘"your name only in- 
creases the suspicions against you, and lays me under the 
necessity of requesting that you will give up what papers 
you have in charge.” 

I observed the Highlanders look anxiously at each other 5 
when this proposal was made. 

“I have none,” I replied, “to surrender.” 

The officer commanded me to be disarmed and searched. 

To have resisted would have been madness. I accordingly 
gave up my arms, and submitted to a search, which was 10 
conducted as civilly as an operation of the kind well could. 
They found nothing except the note which I had received 
that night through the hand of the landlady. 

“This is different from v r hat I expected,” said the officer; 
“but it affords us good grounds for detaining you. Here 15 
I find you in written communication with the outlawed robber, 
Robert MacGregor Campbell, who has been so long the plague 
of this district — How do you account for that ? ” 

“Spies of. Rob!” said Inverashalloch. “We wad serve 
them right to strap them up till the neist tree.” 20 

“We are gaun to see after some gear o’ our ain, gentlemen,” 
said the Bailie, “that’s fa’en into his hands by accident — 
there’s nae law agane a man looking after his ain, I hope?” 

“How did you come by this letter?” said the officer, 
addressing himself to me. * 25 

I could not think of betraying the poor woman who had 
given it to me, and remained silent. 

“Do you know anything of it, fellow?” said the officer, 
looking at Andrew, whose jaws were chattering like a pair 
of castanets at the threats thrown out by the Highlander. 30 
“O ay, I ken a’ about it — it was a Hieland loon gied the 
letter to that lang-tongued jaud the gudewife there; I’ll be 
sworn my maister ken’d naething about it. But he’s wilfu’ 


296 


ROB ROY 


to gang up the hills and speak wi’ Rob ; and oh, sir, it wad be 
a charity just to send a wheen o’ your red-coats to see him 
safe back to Glasgow again whether he will or no — And ye 
can keep Mr. Jarvie as lang as ye like — He’s responsible 
5 eneugh for ony fine ye may lay on him — and so’s my master 
for that matter ; for me, I’m just a puir gardener lad, and no 
worth your steering.” 

“I believe,” said the officer, “the best thing I can do is to 
send these perspns to the garrison under an escort. They 
io seem to be in immediate correspondence with the enemy, and 
I shall be in no respect answerable for suffering them to be at 
liberty. Gentlemen, you will consider yourselves as my 
prisoners. So soon as dawn approaches, I will send you to a 
place of security. If you be the persons you describe your- 
iS selves, it will soon appear, and you will sustain no great 
inconvenience from being detained a day or tw T o. I can hear 
no remonstrances,” he continued, turning away from the 
Bailie, whose mouth was open to address him; “the service 
I am on gives me no time for idle discussions.” 

20 “Aweel, aweel, sir,” said the Bailie, “you’re welcome to 
a tune on your ain fiddle ; but see if I dinna gar ye dance till’t 
afore a’s dune.” 

An anxious consultation now took place between the officer 
and the Highlanders, but carried on in so low a tone, that it 
25 was impossible to catch the sense. So soon as it was con- 
cluded they all left the house. At their departure, the Bailie 
thus expressed himself : — “Thae Hielandmen are o’ the 
westland clans, and just as light-handed as their neighbors, 
an a’ tales be true, and yet ye see they hae brought them 
30 frae the head o’ Argyleshire 0 to make war wd’ puir Rob for 
some auld ill-will that they hae at him and his surname. And 
there’s the Grahames, and the Buchanans, and the Lennox 
gentry, a’ mounted and in order — It’s weel ken’d their 


ROB ROY 


297 


quarrel ; and I dinna blame them — naebody likes to lose 
his kye. And then there’s sodgers, puir things, hoyed out 
frae the garrison at a’ body’s bidding — Puir Rob will hae 
his hands fu’ by the time the sun comes ower the hill. Weel 
— it’s wrang for a magistrate to be wishing onything agane 5 
the course o’ justice, but deil o’ me an I wad break my heart 
to hear that Rob had gien them a’ their paiks !” 


CHAPTER XXX 


General, 

Hear me, and mark me well, and look upon me 
Directly in my face — my woman’s face — 

See if one fear, one shadow of a terror, 

One paleness dare appear, but from my anger, 

To lay hold on your mercies. 

Bonduca° 

The morning had broken, when a corporal and two men 
rushed into the hut, dragging after them, in a sort of triumph, 
a Highlander, whom I immediately recognized as my acquaint- 
ance the ex-turnkey. The Bailie, who started up at the 
5 noise with which they entered, immediately made the same 
discovery, and exclaimed — ‘'Mercy on us ! they hae grippit 
the puir creature Dougal. — Captain, I will put in bail — 
sufficient bail, for that Dougal creature.’’ 

To this offer, dictated undoubtedly by a grateful recol- 
io lection of the late interference of the Highlander in his behalf, 
the Captain only answered by requesting Mr. Jarvie to 
“mind his own affairs, and remember that he was himself 
for the present a prisoner.” * 

“I take you to witness, Mr. Osbaldistone,” said the Bailie, 
i s who was probably better acquainted with the process in civil 
than in military cases, “that he has refused sufficient bail. 
It’s my opinion that the creature Dougal will have a good 
action of wrongous imprisonment and damages agane him, 
under the Act seventeen hundred and one, and I’ll see the 
20 creature righted.” 


298 


ROB ROY 


299 


The officer, whose name I understood was Thornton, 
paying no attention to the Bailie’s threats or expostulations, 
instituted a very close inquiry into Dougal’s life and con- 
versation, and compelled him to admit, though with apparent 
reluctance, the successive facts, — that he knew Rob Roy 5 
MacGregor — that he had seen him within these twelve 
months — within these six months — within this month — 
within this week; in fine, that he had parted from him only 
an hour ago. All this detail came like drops of blood from 
the prisoner, and was, to all appearance, only extorted by 10 
the threat of a halter and the next tree, which Captain Thorn- 
ton assured him should be his doom, if he did not give direct 
and special information. 

“And now, my friend,” said the officer, “you will please 
inform me how many men your master has with him at 15 
present.” 

Dougal looked in every direction except at the querist, and 
began to answer, “She canna just be sure about that.” 

“Look at me, you Highland dog,” said the officer, “and 
remember your life depends on your answer. How r many 20 
rogues had that outlawed scoundrel with him when you left 
him?”' 

“Ou, no aboon sax rogues when I was gane.” 

“And where are the rest of his banditti?” 

“Gane wi’ the Lieutenant agane ta westland carles.” 25 

“Against the westland clans?” said the Captain. “Umph 
— that is likely enough ; and what rogue’s errand were you 
despatched upon ? ” 

“Just to see what your honor and ta gentleman red-coats 
were doing doun here at ta Clachan.” 30 

“The creature will prove fause-hearted, after a’,” said the 
Bailie, who by this time had planted himself close behind me ; 
“it’s lucky I didna pit mysell to expenses anent him.” 


300 


ROB ROY 


“And now, my friend/’ said the Captain, “let us under- 
stand each other. You have confessed yourself a spy, and 
should string up to the next tree — But come, if you will do 
me one good turn, I will do you another. You, Donald — you 
5 shall just, in the way of kindness, carry me and a small party 
to the place where you left your master, as I wish to speak a 
few words with him on serious affairs; and I’ll let you go 
about your business, and give you five guineas to boot.” 

“Oigh! oigh!” exclaimed Dougal, in the extremity of 
i o distress and perplexity; “she canna do tat — she canna do 
tat; she’ll rather be hanged.” 

“Hanged, then, you shall be, my friend,” said the officer; 
“and your blood be upon your own head. Corporal Cramp, 
do you play Provost-Marshal — away with him ! ” 
iS The corporal had confronted poor Dougal for some time, 
ostentatiously twisting a piece of cord which he had found in 
the house into the form of a halter. He now threw it about 
the culprit’s neck, and, with the assistance of two soldiers, 
had dragged Dougal as far as the door, when, overcome 
20 with the terror of immediate death, he exclaimed, “Shentle- 
mans, stops — stops ! She’ll do his honor’s bidding — ■ 
stops ! ” 

“Awa’ wi’ the creature!” said the Bailie, “he deserves 
hanging mair now than ever; awa’ wi’ him, corporal. Why 
25 dinna ye tak him awa’?” 

“It’s my belief and opinion, honest gentleman,” said the 
corporal, “that if you were going to be hanged yourself, you 
would be in no such d — d hurry.” 

This by-dialogue prevented my hearing what passed be- 
3 o tween the prisoner and Captain Thornton; but I heard the 
former snivel out, in a very subdued tone, “And ye’ll ask her 
to gang nae farther than just to show ye where the Mac- 
Gregor is ? — Ohon ! ohon ! ” 


ROB ROY 


301 


“Silence your howling, you rascal — No; I give you my 
word I will ask you to go no farther. — Corporal, make the 
men fall in, in front of the houses. Get out these gentlemen’s 
horses; we must carry them with us. I cannot spare any 
men to guard them here. Come, my lads, get under arms.” 5 

The soldiers bustled about, and were ready to move. We 
were led out, along with Dougal, in the capacity of prisoners. 

As we left the hut, I heard our companion in captivity re- 
mind the Captain of “ta foive kuineas.” 

“Here they are for you,” said the officer, putting gold into 10 
his hand; “but observe, that if you attempt to mislead me, 

I will blow your brains out with my own hand.” 

“The creature,” said the Bailie, “is waur than I judged 
him — it is a warldly and a perfidious creature. O the filthy 
lucre of gain that men gies themsells up to ! My father the 15 
deacon used to say, the penny siller slew mair souls than the 
naked sword slew bodies.” 

The landlady now approached, and demanded payment of 
her reckoning, including all that had been quaffed by Major 
Galbraith and his Highland friends. The English officer 20 
remonstrated, but Mrs. MacAlpine declared, if “she hadna 
trusted to his honor’s name being used in their company, 
she wad never hae drawn them a stoup o’ liquor; for Mr. 
Galbraith, she might see him again, or she might no, but weel 
did she wot she had sma’ chance of seeing her siller — and she 25 
was a puir widow, had naething but her custom to rely on.” 

Captain Thornton put a stop to her remonstrances by pay- 
ing the charge, which was only a few English shillings, though 
the amount sounded very formidable in Scottish denomi- 
nations. The generous officer would have included Mr. 30 
Jarvie and me in this general acquittance; but the Bailie, 
disregarding an intimation from the landlady to “make as 
muckle of the Inglishers as we could, for they were sure to gie 


302 


ROB ROY 


us plague eneugh,” went into a formal accounting respecting 
our share of the reckoning, and paid it accordingly. The 
Captain took the opportunity to make us some slight apology 
for detaining us. “If we were loyal and peaceable subjects,” 
5 he said, “we would not regret being stopt for a day, when it 
was essential to the king’s service ; if otherwise, he was acting 
according to his duty.” 

We were compelled to accept an apology which it would 
have served no purpose to refuse, and we sallied out to attend 
io him on his march. 

I shall never forget the delightful sensation with which I 
exchanged the dark, smoky, smothering atmosphere of the 
Highland hut, in which we had passed the night so uncom- 
fortably, for the refreshing fragrance of the morning air, and 
15 the glorious beams of the rising sun, which, from a tabernacle 
of purple and golden clouds, were darted full on such a scene 
of natural romance and beauty as had never before greeted 
my eyes. To the left lay the valley, down which the Forth 
wandered on its easterly course, surrounding the beautiful 
20 detached hill, with all its garland of thickets, knolls, and 
crags, lay the bed of a broad mountain lake, lightly curled 
into tiny waves by the breath of the morning breeze, each 
glittering in its course under the influence of the sunbeams. 
High hills, rocks, and banks, waving with natural forests of 
25 birch and oak, formed the borders of this enchanting sheet 
of water ; and, as their leaves rustled to the wind and twinkled 
in the sun, gave to the depth of solitude a sort of life and 
vivacity. Man alone seemed to be placed in a state of in- 
feriority, in a scene where all the ordinary features of nature 
30 were raised and exalted. The miserable little bourocks, as 
the Bailie termed them, of which about a dozen formed the 
village called the Clachan of Aberfoil, were composed of loose 
stones, cemented by clay instead of mortar, and thatched by 


ROB ROY 


303 


turfs, laid rudely upon rafters formed of native and unhewn 
birches and oaks from the woods around. The roofs ap- 
proached the ground so nearly, that Andrew Fairservice 
observed we might have ridden over the village the night 
before, and never found out we were near it, unless our horses’ 5 
feet had “gane through the riggin V’ 

From all we could see, Mrs. MacAlpine’s house, miserable 
as were the quarters it afforded, was still by far the best in 
the hamlet; and I dare say (if my description gives you any 
curiosity to see it) you will hardly find it much improved at 10 
the present day,° for the Scotch are not a people who speedily 
admit innovation, even when it comes in the shape of improve- 
ment. 

The inhabitants of these miserable dwellings were disturbed 
by the noise of our departure; and as our party of about 15 
twenty soldiers drew up in rank before marching off, we were 
reconnoitred by many a beldam from the half-opened door 
of her cottage. As these sibyls thrust forth their grey heads, 
imperfectly covered with close caps of flannel, and showed 
their shrivelled brows, and long skinny arms, with various 20 
gestures, shrugs, and muttered expressions in Gaelic addressed 
to each other, my imagination recurred to the witches of 
Macbeth, and I imagined I read in the features of these crones 
the malevolence of the weird sisters. 0 The little children 
also, who began to crawl forth, some quite naked, and others 25 
very imperfectly covered with tatters of tartan stuff, clapped 
their tiny hands, and grinned at the English soldiers, with 
an expression of national hate and malignity which seemed 
beyond their years. 

The last file of men had left the village, to pursue a small 30 
broken track, formed by the sledges in which the natives 
transported their peats and turfs, and which led through the 
woods that fringed the lower end of the lake, when a shrilly 


304 


ROB ROY 


sound of female exclamation broke forth, mixed with the 
screams of children, the whooping of boys, and the clapping 
of hands, with which the Highland dames enforce their notes, 
whether of rage or lamentation. I asked Andrew, who looked 
5 as pale as death, what all this meant. 

“I doubt we’ll ken that ower sune,” said he. “Means? 
It means that the Highland wives are cursing and banning 
the red-coats, and wishing ill-luck to them, and ilka ane that 
ever spoke the Saxon tongue. I have heard wives flyte in 
io England and Scotland — it’s nae marvel to hear them flyte 
ony gate ; but sic ill-scrapit tongues as thae Highland carlines’ 
— and sic grewsome wishes, that men should be slaughtered 
like sheep — and that they may lapper their hands to the 
elbows in their heart’s blude — and that they suld dee the 
15 death of Walter Cuming of Guiyock, 0 wha hadna as muckle 
o’ him left thegither as would supper a messan-dog — sic 
awsome language as that I ne’er heard out o’ a human 
thrapple.” 

Adding Andrew’s information to what I had myself ob- 
20 served, I could scarce doubt that some attack was meditated 
upon our party. 

The Bailie’s good sense and shrewd observation had led him 
to the same conclusion, as I understood from his requesting 
to speak with the captain, whom he addressed nearly in the 
25 following terms : “Captain, it’s no to fleech ony favor out o’ 
ye, for I scorn it — and it’s under protest that I reserve my 
action and pleas of oppression and wrongous imprisonment; 
but, being a friend to King George and his army, I take the 
liberty to speer — Dinna ye think ye might tak a better time 
30 to gang up this glen? If ye are seeking Rob Roy, he’s ken’d 
to be better than half a hunder men strong when he’s at the 
fewest; an if he brings in the Glengyle 0 folk, and the Glen- 
finlas and Balquidder 0 lads, he may come to gie you your 


ROB ROY 


305 


kail through the reek ; and it’s my sincere advice, as a king’s 
friend, ye had better tak back again to the Clachan, for thae 
women at Aberfoil are like the scarts and seamaws at the 
Cumries 0 — there’s aye foul weather follows their skirling.” 

‘‘Make yourself easy, sir,” replied Captain Thornton^ 
“I am in the execution of my orders. And as you say you 
are a friend to King George, you will be glad to learn that 
it is impossible that this gang of ruffians, whose license has 
disturbed the country so long, can escape the measures now 
taken to suppress them. The horse squadron of militia, io 
commanded by Major Galbraith, is already joined by two or 
more troops of cavalry, which will occupy all the lower passes 
of this wild country; three hundred Highlanders, under the 
two gentlemen you saw at the inn, are in possession of the 
upper part, and various strong parties from the garrison are 15 
securing the hills and glens in different directions. Our last 
accounts of Rob Roy correspond with what this fellow has 
confessed, that, finding himself surrounded on all sides, he 
had dismissed the greater part of his followers, with the pur- 
pose either of lying concealed, or of making his escape through 20 
his superior knowledge of the passes.” 

“I dinna ken,” said the Bailie; “there’s rflair brandy than 
brains in Garschattachin’s head this morning — And I 
wadna, an I were you, Captain, rest my main dependence on 
the Hielandmen — hawks winna pike out hawks’ een. They 25 
may quarrel among themsells, and gie ilk ither ill names, and 
maybe a slash wi’ a claymore ; but they are sure to join in the 
lang run, against a’ civilized folk, that wear breeks on their 
hinder ends, and hae purses in their pouches.” 

Apparently these admonitions were not altogether thrown 30 
away on Captain Thornton. He reformed his line of march, 
commanded his soldiers to unsling their firelocks and fix their 
bayonets, and formed an advanced and rear-guard, each 


306 


ROB ROY 


consisting of a non-commissioned officer and two soldiers, 
who received strict orders to keep an alert look-out. Dougal 
underwent another and very close examination, in which he 
steadfastly asserted the truth of what he had before affirmed ; 

5 and being rebuked on account of the suspicious and dangerous 
appearance of the route by which he was guiding them, he 
answered with a sort of testiness that seemed very natural, 
“Her nainsell didna mak ta road; an shentlemans likit grand 
roads, she suld hae pided at Glasco.” 
io The road now suddenly emerged from the forest ground, 
and, winding close by the margin of the loch, afforded us a 
full view of its spacious mirror, which now, the breeze having 
totally subsided, reflected in still magnificence the high rocks, 
and shaggy banks, by which it is encircled. The hills now 
15 sunk on its margin so closely, and were so broken and pre- 
cipitous, as to afford no passage except just upon the narrow 
line of the track which we occupied, and which was overhung 
with rocks, from which we might have been destroyed merely 
by rolling down stones, without much possibility of offering 
20 resistance. Add to this, that, as the road winded round every 
promontory and bay which indented the lake, there was rarely 
a possibility of - seeing a hundred yards before us. Our 
commander appeared to take some alarm at the nature of 
the pass in which he was engaged, which displayed itself in 
25 repeated orders to his soldiers to be on the alert, and in many 
threats of instant death to Dougal, if he should be found to 
have led them into danger. 

“If shentlemans were seeking ta Red Gregarach,” 0 said 
Dougal, “to be sure they couldna expect to find her without 
30 some wee danger.” 

Just as the Highlander uttered these words, a halt was made 
by the corporal commanding the advance, who sent back one 
of the file who formed it, to tell the Captain that the path in 


ROB ROY 


307 


front was occupied by Highlanders, stationed on a command- 
ing point of particular difficulty. Almost at the same instant 
a soldier from the rear came to say that they heard the sound 
of a bagpipe in the woods through which we had just passed. 
Captain Thornton, a man of conduct as well as courage, 5 
instantly resolved to force the pass in front, without waiting 
till he was assailed from the rear; and, assuring his soldiers 
that the bagpipes which they heard were those of the friendly 
Highlanders who were advancing to their assistance, he stated 
to them the importance of advancing and securing Rob Roy, 10 
if possible, before these auxiliaries should come up to divide 
with them the honor, as well as the reward which was placed 
on the head of this celebrated freebooter. He therefore 
ordered the rear-guard to join the centre, and both to close 
up to the advance, doubling his files so as to occupy with his 15 
column the whole practicable part of the road, and to present 
such a front as its breadth admitted. Dougal, to whom he 
said in a whisper, “You dog, if you have deceived me, you 
shall die for it!” was placed in the centre, between two 
grenadiers, with positive orders to shoot him if he attempted 20 
an escape. The same situation was assigned to us, as being 
the safest, and Captain Thornton, taking his half-pike from 
the soldier who carried it, placed himself at the head of his 
little detachment, and gave the word to march forward. 

The party advanced with the firmness of English soldiers. 25 
Not so Andrew Fairservice, who was frightened out of his 
wits; and not so, if truth must be told, either the Bailie or 
I myself, who, without feeling the same degree of trepidation, 
could not with stoical indifference see our lives exposed to 
hazard in a quarrel with which we had no concern. But 30 
there was neither time for remonstrance nor remedy. 

We approached within about twenty yards of the spot where 
the advanced guard had seen some appearance of an enemy. 


308 


ROB ROY 


It was one of those promontories which run into the lake, and 
round the base of which the road had hitherto winded in the 
manner I have described. In the present case, however, the 
path, instead of keeping the water’s edge, scaled the prom- 
5 ontory by one or two rapid zigzags, carried in a broken 
track along the precipitous face of a slaty grey rock, which 
would otherwise have been absolutely inaccessible. On the 
top of this rock, only to be approached by a road so broken, 
so narrow, and so precarious, the corporal declared he had 
i o seen the bonnets and long-barrelled guns of several moun- 
taineers, apparently couched among the long heath and brush- 
wood which crested the eminence. Captain Thornton 
ordered him to move forward with three files, to dislodge 
the supposed ambuscade, while, at a more slow but 
15 steady pace, he advanced to his support with the rest of 
his party. 

The attack which he meditated was prevented by the 
unexpected apparition of a female upon the summit of the 
rock. “Stand!” she said, with a commanding tone, “and 
20 tell me what ye seek in MacGregor’s country?” 

I have seldom seen a finer or more commanding form than 
this woman. She might be between the term of forty and 
fifty years, and had a countenance which must once have 
been of a masculine cast of beauty; though now, imprinted 
25 with deep lines by exposure to rough weather, and perhaps 
by the wasting influence of grief and passion, its features 
were only strong, harsh, and expressive. She wore her plaid, 
not drawn around her head and shoulders, as is the fashion 
of the women in Scotland, but disposed around her body as 
30 the Highland soldiers wear theirs. She had a man’s bonnet, 
with a feather in it, an unsheathed sword in her hand, and a 
pair of pistols at her girdle. 

“It’s Helen Campbell, Rob’s wife,” said the Bailie, in a 


ROB ROY 309 

whisper of considerable alarm; “and there will be broken 
heads amang us or it’s lang.” 

“What seek ye here?” she asked again of Captain Thorn- 
ton, who had himself advanced to reconnoitre. 

“We seek the outlaw, Rob Roy MacGregor Campbell,” 
answered the officer, “and make no war on women ; therefore 
offer no vain opposition to the king’s troops, and assure your- 
self of civil treatment.” 

“Ay,” retorted the Amazon, “I am no stranger to your 
tender mercies. Ye have left me neither name nor fame — 
my mother’s bones will shrink aside in their grave when mine 
are laid beside them — Ye have left me neither house nor 
hold, blanket nor bedding, cattle to feed us, or flocks to clothe 
us — Ye have taken from us all — all ! — The very name of 
our ancestors have ye taken away, and now ye come for our 
lives.” 

“I seek no man’s life,” replied the Captain; “I only execute 
my orders. If you are alone, good woman, you have nought 
to fear — if there are any with you so rash as to offer useless 
resistance, their own blood be on their own heads. Move 
forward, sergeant.” 

“Forward! march!” said the non-commissioned officer. 
“Huzza, my boys, for Rob Roy’s head and a purse of gold.” 

He quickened his pace into a run, followed by the six 
soldiers ; but as they attained the first traverse of the ascent, 
the flash of a dozen of firelocks from various parts of the pass 
parted in quick succession and deliberate aim. The sergeant, 
shot through the body, still struggled to gain the ascent, 
raised himself by his hands to clamber up the face of the rock, 
but relaxed his grasp, after a desperate effort, and falling, 
rolled from the face of the cliff into the deep lake, where he 
perished. Of the soldiers, three fell, slain or disabled; the 
others retreated on their main body, all more or less wounded. 


5 

io 

IS 

20 

25 

30 


310 


ROB ROY 


“Grenadiers, to the front!” said Captain Thornton. — 
You are to recollect, that in those days this description of 
soldiers actually carried that descriptive species of fireworks 
from which they derived their name. The four grenadiers 
5 moved to the front accordingly. The officer commanded the 
rest of the party to be ready to support them, and only saying 
to us, “Look to your safety, gentlemen,” gave, in rapid 
succession, the word to the grenadiers — “Open your pouches 
— handle your grenades — blow your matches — fall on.” 
io The whole advanced with a shout, headed by Captain 
Thornton, — the grenadiers preparing to throw their grenades 
among the bushes where the ambuscade lay, and the musket- 
eers to support them by an instant and close assault. Dougal, 
forgotten in the scuffle, wisely crept into the thicket which 
15 overhung that part of the road where we had first halted, 
which he ascended with the activity of a wild cat. I followed 
his example, instinctively recollecting that the fire of the 
Highlanders would sweep the open track. But the difficul- 
ties of the ascent soon increased so much, that I despaired of 
20 reaching Dougal, who seemed to swing himself from rock to 
rock, and stump to stump, with the facility of a squirrel, and 
I turned down my eyes to see what had become of my other 
companions. Both were brought to a very awkward standstill. 

The Bailie, to whom I suppose fear had given a temporary 
25 share of agility, had ascended about twenty feet from the 
path, when his foot slipping, as he straddled from one huge 
fragment of rock to another, he would have slumbered with 
his father the deacon, whose acts and words he was so fond 
of quoting, but for a projecting branch of a ragged thorn, 
30 which, catching hold of the skirts of his riding-coat, supported 
him in mid-air, where he dangled not unlike to the sign of the 
Golden Fleece 0 over the door of a mercer in the Trongate, 0 of 
his native city. 


ROB ROY 


311 


As for Andrew Fairservice, he had advanced with better 
success, until he had attained the top of a bare cliff, which, 
rising above the wood, exposed him, at least in his own 
opinion, to all the dangers of the neighboring skirmish, while, 
at the same time, it was of such a precipitous and impracticable 5 
nature, that he dared neither to advance nor retreat. Foot- 
ing it up and down upon the narrow space which the top of 
the cliff afforded (very like a fellow at a country fair dancing 
upon a trencher), he roared for mercy in Gaelic and English 
alternately, according to the side on which the scale of victory n 
seemed to predominate, while his exclamations were only 
answered by the groans of the Bailie, who suffered much, not 
only from apprehension, but from the pendulous posture in 
which he hung suspended by the loins. 

On perceiving the Bailie’s precarious situation, my first 15 
idea was to attempt to render him assistance; but this was 
impossible without the concurrence of Andrew, whom neither 
sign, nor entreaty, nor command, nor expostulation, could 
inspire with courage to adventure the descent from his painful 
elevation, where, like an unskilled and obnoxious minister of 20 
state, unable to escape from the eminence to which he had 
presumptuously ascended, he continued to pour forth piteous 
prayers for mercy, which no one heard, and to skip to and fro, 
writhing his body into all possible antic shapes to avoid the 
balls which he conceived to be whistling around him. 25 

In a few minutes this cause of terror ceased, for the fire, 
at first so well sustained, now sunk at once — a sure sign that 
the conflict was concluded. To gain some spot from which 
I could see how the day had gone was now my object, in order 
to appeal to the mercy of the victors, who, I trusted (which- 30 
ever side might be gainers), would not suffer the honest 
Bailie to remain suspended, like the coffin of Mahomet, 0 
between heaven and earth, without lending a hand to dis- 


312 


ROB ROY 


engage him. At length, by dint of scrambling, I found a 
spot which commanded a view of the field of battle. It was 
indeed ended; and, as my mind already augured, from the 
place and circumstances attending the contest, it had termi- 
S nated in the defeat of Captain Thornton. 




CHAPTER XXXI 


“Woe to the vanquished!” was stern Brenno’s word, 

When sunk proud Rome beneath the Gallic sword — 

“Woe to the vanquished!” when his massive blade 
Bore down the scale against her ransom weigh’d ; 

And on the field of foughten battle still, 

Woe knows no limits save the victor’s will. 

The Gaulliad. 0 

After gazing everywhere in vain, I at length retraced my 
steps to see what assistance I could individually render to 
my unlucky friend, when, to my great joy, I saw Mr. Jarvie 
delivered from his state of suspense ; and though very black 
in the face, and much deranged in the garments, safely seated 5 
beneath the rock, in front of which he had been so lately 
suspended. I hastened to join him and offer my congratula- 
tions, which he was at first far from receiving in the spirit of 
cordiality with which they were offered. A heavy fit of 
coughing scarce permitted him breath enough to express the 10 
broken hints which he threw out against my sincerity. 

“Uh! uh! uh! uh! — they say a friend — uh! uh! — a 
friend sticketh closer than a brither — uh ! uh ! uh ! When I 
came up here, Maister Osbaldistone, to this country, cursed 
of God and man — uh ! uh — Heaven forgie me for swear- 15 
ing — on nae man’s errand but yours, d’ye think it was fair 
— uh ! uh ! uh ! — to leave me, first, to be shot or drowned 
atween red-wud Highlanders and red-coats; and next to be 
hung up between heaven and earth, like an auld potato-bogle, 
without sae muckle as trying — uh ! uh ! — sae muckle as 20 
trying to relieve me?” 


313 


314 


ROB ROY 


I made a thousand apologies, and labored so hard to repre- 
sent the impossibility of my affording him relief by my own 
unassisted exertions, that at length I succeeded, and the 
Bailie, who was as placable as hasty in his temper, extended 
S his favor to me once more. I next took the liberty of asking 
him how he had contrived to extricate himself. 

“Me extricate! I might hae hung there till the day of 
judgment or I could hae helped mysel, wi’ my head hinging 
down on the tae side, and my heels on the tother, like the 
io yarn-scales in the weigh-house. It was the creature Dougal 
that extricated me, as he did yestreen ; he cuttit aff the tails 
o’ my coat wi’ his durk and another gillie and him set me on 
my legs as cleverly as if I had never been aff them. But to 
see what a thing gude braid claith is ! Had I been in ony o’ 
j 5 your rotten French camlets now, or your drab-de-berries, 0 
it would hae screeded like an auld rag wi’ sic a weight as mine. 
But fair fa’ the weaver that wrought the weft o’t — I swung 
and bobbit yonder as safe as a gabbart 0 that’s moored by a 
three-ply cable at the Broomielaw.” 0 
20 I now inquired what had become of his preserver. 

“The creature,” so he continued to call the Highlandman, 
“contrived to let me ken there wad be danger in gaun near 
the leddy till he came back, and bade me stay here. I am 
o’ the mind,” he continued, “that he’s seeking after you — 
25 it’s a considerate creature — and troth, I wad swear he was 
right about the leddy, as he ca’s her, too — Helen Campbell 
was nane o’ the maist douce maidens, nor meekest wives 
neither, and folk say that Rob himsell stands in awe o’ her. 
I doubt she winna ken me, for it’s mony years since we met — 
30 1 am clear for waiting for the Dougal creature or we gang 
near her.” 

Those who arrived first within gunshot of poor Andrew, 
did not trouble themselves to offer him any assistance in the 


ROB ROY 


315 


ticklish posture of his affairs, but levelling their long Spanish- 
barrelled guns, gave him to understand, by signs which 
admitted of no misconstruction, that he must contrive to 
come down and submit himself to their mercy, or to be marked 
at from beneath, like a regimental target set up for ball- 5 
practice. With such a formidable hint for venturous exertion, 
Andrew Fairservice could no longer hesitate; under the 
influence of a counteracting motive for terror, he achieved 
a safe descent from his perilous eminence, which, I verily 
believe, nothing but the fear of instant death could have 10 
moved him to attempt. The awkward mode of Andrew’s 
descent greatly amused the Highlanders below, who fired a 
shot or two while he was engaged in it, without the purpose 
of injuring him, as I believe, but merely to enhance the 
amusement they derived from his extreme terror, and the 15 
superlative exertions of agility to which it excited him. 

At length he attained firm and comparatively level ground 
— or rather, to speak more correctly, his foot slipping at the 
last point of descent, he fell on the earth at his full length, 
and was raised by the assistance of the Highlanders, who 20 
stood to receive him, and who, ere he gained his legs, stripped 
him not only of the whole contents of his pockets, but of 
periwig, hat, coat, doublet, stockings, and shoes, performing 
the feat with such admirable celerity, that, although he fell 
on his back a well-clothed and decent burgher-seeming 25 
serving-man, he arose a forked, uncased, bald-pated, beg- 
garly-looking scarecrow. Without respect to the pain which 
his undefended toes experienced from the sharp encounter 
of the rocks over which they hurried him, those who had 
detected Andrew proceeded to drag him downward toward 30 
the road through all the intervening obstacles. 

In the course of their descent, Mr. Jarvie and I became 
exposed to their lynx-eyed observation, and instantly half- 


316 


ROB ROY 


a-dozen of armed Highlanders thronged around us, with 
drawn dirks and swords pointed at our faces and throats, 
and cocked pistols presented against our bodies. To have 
offered resistance would have been madness, especially as 
5 we had no weapons capable of supporting such a demonstra- 
tion. We therefore submitted to our fate; and with great 
roughness on the part of those who assisted at our toilet, were 
in the act of being reduced to as unsophisticated a state (to 
use King Lear’s phrase) as the plumeless biped Andrew 
io Fairservice, who stood shivering between fear and cold at 
a few yards’ distance. Good chance, however, saved us from 
this extremity of wretchedness; for, just as I had yielded up 
my cravat (a smart Steinkirk, 0 by the way, and richly laced) , 
and the Bailie had been disrobed of the fragments of his riding 
15 coat — enter Dougal, and the scene was changed. By a high 
tone of expostulation, mixed with oaths and threats, as far as 
I could conjecture the tenor of his language from the violence 
of his gestures, he compelled the plunderers, however reluctant, 
not only to give up their further depredations on our property, 
20 but to restore the spoil they had already appropriated. It 
was, however, in vain that Andrew Fairservice employed his 
lungs in obsecrating a share of Dougal’s protection, or at least 
his interference to procure restoration of his shoes. 

“Na, na,” said Dougal in reply, “she’s nae gentle pody, 
25 I trow ; her petters hae ganged parefoot, or she’s muckle 
mista’en.” And, leaving Andrew to follow at his leisure, or 
rather at such leisure as the surrounding crowd were pleased 
to indulge him with, he hurried us down to the pathway in 
which the skirmish had been fought, and hastened to present 
30 us as additional captives to the female leader of his band. 

I do not know if Helen MacGregor had personally mingled 
in the fray, and indeed I was afterward given to understand 
the contrary ; but the specks of blood on her brow, her hands 


ROB ROY 


317 


and naked arms, as well as on the blade of her sword which 
she continued to hold in her hand — her flushed countenance, 
and the disordered state of the raven locks which escaped from 
under the red bonnet and plume that formed her head-dress, 
seemed all to intimate that she had taken an immediate share 5 
in the conflict. Her keen black eyes and features expressed 
an imagination inflamed by the pride of gratified revenge, 
and the triumph of victory. Yet there was nothing positively 
sanguinary, or cruel, in her deportment; and she reminded 
me, when the immediate alarm of the interview was over, of 10 
some of the paintings I had seen of the inspired heroines in 
the Catholic churches of France. She was not, indeed, 
sufficiently beautiful for a Judith, 0 nor had she the inspired 
expression of features which painters have given to Deborah, 0 
or to the wife of Heber° the Kenite, at whose feet the strong 15 
oppressor of Israel, who dwelled in Harosheth of the Gentiles, 
bowed down, fell, and lay a dead man. Nevertheless, the 
enthusiasm by which she was agitated gave her countenance 
and deportment, wildly dignified in themselves, an air which 
made her approach nearly to the ideas of those wonderful 20 
artists who gave to the eye the heroines of Scripture history. 

I was uncertain in what terms to accost a personage so 
uncommon, when Mr. Jarvie, breaking the ice with a pre- 
paratory cough (for the speed with wliich he had been brought 
into her presence had again impeded his respiration), ad- 25 
dressed her as follows: — “Uh! uh! etc., etc. I am very 
happy to have this joyful opportunity” (a quaver in his 
voice strongly belied the emphasis which he studiously laid 
on the word joyful) — “this joyful occasion,” he resumed, 
trying to give the adjective a more suitable accentuation, 30 
“to wish my kinsman Robin’s wife a very good morning — 
Uh! uh! — How’s a’ wi’ ye?” (by this time he had talked 
himself into his usual jog-trot manner, which exhibited a 


318 


ROB ROY 


mixture of familiarity and self-importance) — “How’s a’ wi’ 
ye this lang time? Ye’ll hae forgotten me, Mrs. MacGregor 
Campbell, as your cousin — uh ! uh ! — but ye’ll mind my 
father, Deacon Nicol Jarvie, in the Saut Market o’ Glasgow ? 

5 — an honest man he was, and a sponsible, and respect it you 
and yours. Sae, as I said before, I am right glad to see you 
Mrs. MacGregor Campbell, as my kinsman’s wife. I wad 
crave the liberty of a kinsman to salute you, but that your 
gillies keep such a dolefu’ fast haud o’ my arms, and, to speak 
io Heaven’s truth and a magistrate’s, ye wadna be the waur of 
a cogfu’ o’ water before ye welcomed your friends.” 

There was something in the familiarity of this intro- 
duction which ill suited the exalted state of temper of 
the person to whom it was addressed, then busied with 
1 5 distributing dooms of death, and warm from conquest 
in a perilous encounter. 

“What fellow are you,” she said, “that dare to claim 
kindred with the MacGregor, and neither wear his dress 
nor speak his language ? — What are you, that have the 
20 tongue and the habit of the hound, and yet seek to lie down 
with the deer?” 

“I dinna ken,” said the undaunted Bailie, “if the kindred 
has ever been weel redd out to you yet, cousin — but it’s 
ken’d, and can be prov’d. My mother, Elspeth MacFarlane, 
25 was the wife of my father, Deacon Nicol Jarvie — peace be 
i’ them baith ! — and Elspeth was the daughter of Parlane 
MacFarlane, at the Sheeling o’ Loch Sloy. Now, this Parlane 
MacFarlane, as his surviving daughter Maggy MacFarlane, 
alias MacNab, wha married Duncan MacNab o’ Stuck- 
30 avrallachan, can testify, stood as near to your gudeman, 
Robert MacGregor, as in the fourth degree of kindred, for” — : 

The virago lopped the genealogical tree, by demanding 
haughtily, “If a stream of rushing water acknowledged any 


ROB ROY 319 

relation with the portion withdrawn from it for the mean 
domestic uses of those who dwelt on its banks ? ” 

“Vera true, kinswoman,” said the Bailie; “but for a’ that, 
the burn wad be glad to hae the milldam back again in sim- 
mer, when the chuckie-stanes are white in the sun. I hae 5 
been serviceable to Rob ere now ; — forbye a set o’ pearlins 
I sent yoursell when ye was gaun to be married, and when 
Rob was an honest weel-doing drover, and nane o’ this un- 
lawfu’ wark, wi’ fighting, and flashes, and fluffgibs, disturbing 
the king’s peace and disarming his soldiers.” 10 

“Yes,” she said, “you, and such as you, might claim a 
relation to us, when we stooped to be the paltry wretches fit 
to exist under your dominion, as your hewers of wood and 
drawers of water — to find cattle for your banquets, and 
subjects for your laws to oppress and trample on. But now 15 
we are free — free by the very act which left us neither house 
nor hearth, food nor covering — which bereaved me of all — 
of all — and makes me groan when I think I must still cumber 
the earth for other purposes than those of vengeance. And 
I will carry on the work this day has so well commenced, by 20 
a deed that shall break all bands between MacGregor and 
the Lowland churls. Here Allan — Dougal — bind these 
Sassenachs neck and heel together, and throw them into the 
Highland Loch to seek for their Highland kinsfolk.” 

The Bailie, alarmed at this mandate, was commencing an 25 
expostulation, which probably would have only inflamed the 
violent passions of the person whom he addressed, when 
Dougal threw himself between them, and poured forth what ' 

I doubt not was a very animated pleading in our behalf. 

His mistress replied to him, or rather cut short his harangue, 30 
by exclaiming in English (as if determined to make us taste 
in anticipation the full bitterness of death) — “Base dog, 
and son of a dog, do you dispute my commands? Should 


320 


ROB ROY 


I tell ye to cut out their tongues and put them into each 
other’s throats, to try which would there best knap Southron, 
or to tear out their hearts and put them into each other’s 
breasts, to see which would there best plot treason against 
5 the MacGregor — and such things have been done of old in 
the day of revenge, when our fathers had wrongs to redress — 
Should I command you to do this, would it be your part to 
dispute my orders?” 

“To be sure, to be sure,” Dougal replied, with accents of 
io profound submission; “her pleasure suld be done — tat’s but 
reason ; but an it were — tat is, an it could be thought the 
same to her to coup the ill-faured loon of ta red-coat Captain, 
and him corporal Cramp, and twa three o’ the red-coats, into 
the loch, hersell wad do’t wi’ muckle mair great satisfaction 
15 than to hurt ta honest civil shentlemans as were friends to the 
Gregarach, and came up on the Chief’s assurance, and not 
to do no treason, as hersell could testify.” 

The lady was about to reply, when a few wild strains of a 
pibroch 0 were heard advancing up the road from Aberfoil, 
20 the same probably which had reached the ears of Captain 
Thornton’s rear-guard, and determined him to force his way 
onward rather than return to the village, on finding the pass 
occupied. The skirmish being of very short duration, the 
armed men who followed this martial melody, had not, al-" 
25 though quickening their march when they heard the firing, 
been able to arrive in time sufficient to take any share in the 
rencontre. The victory, therefore, was complete without 
them, and they now arrived only to share in the triumph of 
their countrymen. 

30 There was a marked difference betwixt the appearance of 
these new comers and that of the party by which our escort 
had been defeated. Their arms were as superior to those of 
the first party as their dress and appearance. The followers of 


ROB ROY 


321 


the female Chief had axes, scythes, and other antique weapons, 
in aid of their guns; and some had only clubs, daggers, and 
long knives. But of the second party, most had pistols at 
the belt, and almost all had dirks hanging at the pouches 
which they wore in front. Each had a good gun in his hand, 5 
and a broadsword by his side, besides a stout round target, 
made of light wood, covered with leather, and curiously 
studded with brass, and having a steel spike screwed into the 
centre. These hung on their left shoulder during a march, 
or while they were engaged in exchanging fire with the enemy, 10 
and were worn on their left arm when they charged with sword 
in hand. 

But it was easy to see that this chosen band had not ar- 
rived from a victory such as they found their ill-appointed 
companions possessed of. The pibroch sent forth occasionally 1 5 
a few wailing notes expressive of a very different sentiment 
from triumph; and when they appeared before the wife of 
their Chieftain, it was in silence, and with downcast and 
melancholy looks. They paused when they approached her, 
and the pipe again sent forth the same wild and melancholy 20 
strain. 

Helen rushed toward them with a countenance in which 
anger was mingled with apprehension, — “What means this, 

A 1 aster ? ” she said to the minstrel — “why a lament in the 
moment of victory ? — Robert — Hamish — where’s the 25 
MacGregor? — where’s your father?” 

Her sons, who led the band, advanced with slow and 
irresolute steps toward her, and murmured a few words in 
Gaelic, at hearing which she set up a shriek that made the 
rocks ring again, in which all the women and boys joined, 30 
clapping their hands and yelling as if their lives had been 
expiring in the sound. 

“Taken!” repeated Helen, when the clamor had subsided 

y 


322 


ROB ROY 


— “Taken ! — captive ! — and you live to say so ? — Coward 
dogs ! did I nurse you for this, that you should spare your 
blood on your father’s enemies ? or see him prisoner, and come 
back to tell it?” 

5 The sons of MacGregor, to whom this expostulation was 
addressed, were youths, of whom the eldest had hardly at- 
tained his twentieth year. Hamish, or James, the elder of 
these youths, was the tallest by a head, and much hand- 
somer than his brother ; his light blue eyes, with a profusion 
io of fair hair, which streamed from under his smart blue bonnet, 
made his whole appearance a most favorable specimen of 
the Highland youth. The younger was called Robert; but, 
to distinguish him from his father, the Highlanders added the 
epithet Oig, or the young. Dark hair, and dark features, 
i s with a ruddy glow of health and animation, and a form strong 
and well-set beyond his years, completed the sketch of the 
young mountaineer. 

Both now stood before their mother with countenances 
clouded with grief and shame, and listened, with the most 
20 respectful submission, to the reproaches with which she loaded 
them. At length when her resentment appeared in some 
degree to subside, the eldest, speaking in English, probably 
that he might not be understood by their followers, endeavored 
respectfully to vindicate himself and his brother from his 
25 mother’s reproaches. I was so near him as to comprehend 
much of what he said; and, as it was of great consequence 
to me to be possessed of information in this strange crisis, 
I failed not to listen as attentively as I could. 

“The MacGregor,” his son stated, “had been called out 
30 upon a trysting with a Lowland hallion, who came with a 
token from” — he muttered the name very low, but I thought 
it sounded like my own. “The MacGregor,” he said, “ac- 
cepted of the invitation, but commanded the Saxon who 


ROB ROY 


323 


brought the message to be detained, as a hostage that good 
faith should be observed to him. Accordingly he went to 
the place of appointment” (which had some wild Highland 
name that I cannot remember), “attended only by Angus 
Breck and Little Rory, commanding no one to follow him. 5 
Within half an hour Angus Breck came back with the doleful 
tidings that the MacGregor had been surprised and made 
prisoner by a party of Lennox militia, under Galbraith of 
Garschattachin.” He added, “that Galbraith, who upon 
his capture menaced him with retaliation on the person of 10 
the hostage, had treated the threat with great contempt, 
replying, ‘Let each side hang his man; we’ll hang the thief, 
and your catherans may hang the gauger, Rob, and the 
country will be rid of two damned things at once, a wild 
Highlander and a revenue officer.’ Angus Breck, less care- 15 
fully looked to than his master, contrived to escape from the 
hands of the captors, after having been in their custody long 
enough to hear this discussion, and to bring off the news.” 

“And did you learn this, you false-hearted traitor,” said 
the wife of MacGregor, “and not instantly rush to your 20 
father’s rescue, to bring him off, or leave your body on the 
place ? ” 

The young MacGregor modestly replied, by representing 
the very superior force of the enemy, and stated, that as they 
made no preparation for leaving the country, he had fallen 25 
back up the glen with the purpose of collecting a band suf- 
ficient to attempt a rescue with some tolerable chance of suc- 
cess. At length he said, the militiamen would quarter, he 
understood, in the neighboring house of Gartartan, or the old 
castle in the port of Monteith, or some other stronghold, 30 
which, although strong and defensible, was nevertheless 
capable of being surprised, could they but get enough of 
men assembled for the purpose. 


324 


ROB ROY 


I understood afterward that the rest of the freebooter’s 
followers were divided into two strong bands, one destined 
to watch the remaining garrison of Inversnaid, 0 a party of 
which, under Captain Thornton, had been defeated; and 
5 another to show front to the Highland clans who had united 
with the regular troops and Lowlanders in this hostile and 
combined invasion of that mountainous and desolate terri- 
tory, which lying between the lakes of Loch Lomond, 0 Loch 
Katrine, 0 and Loch Ard,° was at this time currently called 
io Rob Roy’s, or the MacGregor country. Messengers were 
despatched in great haste, to concentrate, as I sup- 
posed, their forces, with a view to the purposed at- 
tack on the Lowlanders; and the dejection and despair, 
at first visible on each countenance, gave place to the hope 
15 of rescuing their leader, and to the thirst of vengeance. It 
was under the burning influence of the latter passion that 
the wife of MacGregor commanded that the hostage exchanged 
for his safety should be brought into her presence. I believe 
her sons had kept this unfortunate wretch out of her sight, 
20 for fear of the consequences ; but if it was so, their humane 
precaution only postponed his fate. They dragged forward 
at her summons a wretch already half dead with terror, in 
whose agonized features I recognized, to my horror and 
astonishment, my old acquaintance Morris. 

25 He fell prostrate before the female Chief 0 with an effort to 
clasp her knees, from which she drew back, as if his touch had 
been pollution, so that all he could do in token of the extremity 
of his humiliation, was to kiss the hem of her plaid. I never 
heard entreaties for life poured forth with such agony of 
30 spirit. The ecstasy of fear was such, that instead of paralyz- 
ing his tongue, as on ordinary occasions, it even rendered him 
eloquent; and, with cheeks pale as ashes, hands compressed 
in agony, eyes that seemed to be taking their last look of all 


ROB ROY 


325 


mortal objects, he protested, with the deepest oaths, his total 
ignorance of any design on the person of Rob Roy, whom he 
swore he loved and honored as his own soul. In the in- 
consistency of his terror, he said he was but the agent of 
others, and he muttered the name of Rashleigh. He prayed 5 
but for life — for life he would give all he had in the world : 
it was but life he asked - — life, if it were to be prolonged under 
tortures and privations : he asked only breath, though it 
should be drawn in the damps of the lowest caverns of their 
hills. 10 

It is impossible to describe the scorn, the loathing, and 
contempt, with which the wife of MacGregor regarded this 
wretched petitioner for thq poor boon of existence. 

“ I could have bid ye live,” she said, “had life been to you 
the same weary and wasting burden that it is to me — that 1 5 
it is to every noble and generous mind. But you — wretch ! 
you could creep through the world unaffected by its various 
disgraces, its ineffable miseries, its constantly accumulating 
masses of crime and sorrow : you could live and enjoy yourself, 
while the noble-minded are betrayed — while nameless and 20 
birthless villains tread on the neck of the brave and the long- 
descended : you could enjoy yourself, like a butcher’s dog in 
the shambles, battening on garbage, while the slaughter of 
the oldest and best went on around you! This enjoyment 
you shall not live to partake of ! — you shall die, base dog ! 25 
and that before yon cloud has passed over the sun.” 

She gave a brief command in Gaelic to her attendants, two 
of whom seized upon the. prostrate suppliant, and hurried 
him to the brink of a cliff which overhung the flood. He set 
up the most'piercing and dreadful cries that fear ever uttered 30 
— I may well term them dreadful, for they haunted my sleep 
for years afterward. As the murderers, or executioners, call 
them as you will, dragged him along, he recognized me even 


326 


ROB ROY 


in that moment of horror, and exclaimed, in the last articulate 
words I ever heard him utter, “Oh, Mr. Osbaldistone, save 
me! — save me!” 

I was so much moved by this horrid spectacle, that, al- 
5 though in momentary expectation of sharing his fate, I did 
attempt to speak in his behalf, but, as might have been 
expected, my interference was sternly disregarded. The 
victim was held fast by some, while others, binding a large 
heavy stone in a plaid, tied it around his neck, and others 
io again eagerly stripped him of some part of his dress. Half- 
naked, and thus manacled, they hurled him into the lake, 
there about twelve feet deep, with a loud halloo of vindictive 
triumph, — above which, however, his last death shriek, the 
yell of mortal agony, was distinctly heard. The heavy 
1 5 burden splashed in the dark-blue waters, and the Highlanders, 
with their pole-axes and swords, watched an instant to guard, 
lest, extricating himself from the load to which he was attached, 
the victim might have struggled to regain the shore. But 
the knot had been securely bound — the wretched man sunk 
20 without effort; the waters, which his fall had disturbed, 
settled calmly over him, and the unit of that life for which 
he had pleaded so strongly, was for ever withdrawn from the 
sum of human existence. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


And be he safe restored ere evening set, 

Or, if there’s vengeance in an injured heart, 

And power to wreak it in an armed hand, 

Your land shall ache for’t. 

Old Play. 

“ I take up my protest against this deed, as a bloody and 
cruel murder,” said Mr. Jarvie, — “it is a cursed deed, and 
God will avenge it in his due way and time.” 

“Then you do not fear to follow?” said the virago, bending 
on him a look of death, such as that with which a hawk looks 5 
at his prey ere he pounces. 

“Kinswoman,” said the Bailie, “nae man willingly wad cut 
short his thread of life before the end o’ his pirn was fairly 
measured off on the yarn-winles — And I hae muckle to do, 
an I be spared, in this warld — public and private business, as 10 
weel that belanging to the magistracy as to my ain particular ; 
and nae doubt I hae some to depend on me, as puir Mattie, 
wha is an orphan — She’s a far-awa’ cousin o’ the Laird o’ 
Limmerfield. Sae that, laying a’ this thegither — skin for 
skin, yea all that a man hath, will he give for his life.” 15 

“And were I to set you at liberty,” said the imperious 
dame, “what name could you give to the drowning of that 
Saxon dog?” 

“Uh! uh! — hem! hem!” said the Bailie, clearing his 
throat as well as he could, “I suld study to say as little on that 20 
score as might be — least said is sunest mended.” 

“But if you were called on by the courts, as you term them, 

327 


328 


ROB ROY 


of justice,” she again demanded, “what then would be your 
answer ? ” 

The Bailie looked this way and that way, like a person 
who meditates an escape, and then answered in the tone of 
5 one who, seeing no means of accomplishing a retreat, deter- 
mines to stand the brunt of battle — “I see what you are 
driving me to the wa’ about. But I’ll tell you’t plain, kins- 
woman, — I behoved just to speak according to my ain 
conscience; and though your ain gudeman, that I wish had 
io been here for his ain sake and mine, as weel as the puir Hieland 
creature Dougal, can tell ye that Nicol Jarvie can wink as 
hard at a friend’s failings as onybody, yet I’se tell ye, kins- 
woman, mine’s ne’er be the tongue to belie my thought ; and 
sooner than say that yonder puir wretch was lawfully slaugh- 
1 5 tered, I wad consent to be laid beside him — though I think 
ye are the first Hieland woman wad mint sic a doom to her 
husband’s kinsman but four times removed.” 

It is probable that the tone and firmness assumed by the 
Bailie in his last speech was better suited to make an im- 
20 pression on the hard heart of his kinswoman than the tone 
of supplication he had hitherto assumed, as gems can be cut 
with steel, though they resist softer metals. She commanded 
us both to be placed before her. “Your name,” she said to 
me, “is Osbaldistone ? — the dead dog, whose death you have 
25 witnessed, called you so.” 

“My name is Osbaldistone,” was my answer. 

“Rashleigh, then, I suppose is your Christian name?” 
she pursued.” 

“No — my name is Francis.” 

30 “But you know Rashleigh Osbaldistone,” she continued. 
“He is your brother, if I mistake not, — at least your kins- 
man and near friend.” 

“He is my kinsman,” I replied, “but not my friend. We 


ROB ROY 


329 


were lately engaged together in a rencontre, when we were 
separated by a person whom I understand to be your husband. 
My blood is hardly yet dried on his sword, and the wound on 
my side is yet green. I have little reason to acknowledge 
him as a friend.” 5 

“Then,” she replied, “if a stranger to his intrigues, you 
can go in safety to Garschattachin and his party without 
fear of being detained, and carry them a message from the 
wife of the MacGregor?” 

I answered that I had no reason, on my own account, to io 
fear being in their hands; I had come into this country on 
her husband’s invitation, and his assurance that he would 
aid me in some important matters in which I was interested ; 
and that my companion, Mr. Jarvie, had accompanied me 
on the same errand. 15 

“And I wish Mr. Jarvie’s boots had been fu’ o’ boiling 
water when he drew them on for sic a purpose,” interrupted 
the Bailie. 

“You may read your father,” said Helen MacGregor, 
turning to her sons, “in what this young Saxon tells us — 20 
Wise only when the bonnet is on his head, and the sword is 
in his hand, he never exchanges the tartan for the broad-cloth, 
but he runs himself into the miserable intrigues of the Low- 
landers, and becomes again, after all he has suffered, their 
agent — their tool — their slave.” 25 

“Add, madam,” said I, “and their benefactor.” 

“Be it so,” she said ; “for it is the most empty title of them 
all, since he has uniformly sown benefits to reap a harvest 
of the most foul ingratitude. — But enough of this. I shall 
cause you to be guided to the enemy’s outposts. Ask for their 30 
commander, and deliver him this message from me, Helen 
MacGregor; — that if they injure a hair of MacGregor’s 
head, and if they do not set him at liberty within the space 


330 


ROB ROY 


of twelve hours, there is not a lady in the Lennox but shall 
before Christmas cry the coronach 0 for them she will be loath 
to lose, — there is not a farmer but shall sing well-a-wa over 
a burnt barnyard and an empty byre, — there is not a laird 
S nor heritor shall lay his head on the pillow at night with the 
assurance of being a live man in the morning, — and, to 
begin as we are to end, so soon as the term is expired, I will 
send them this Glasgow Bailie, and this Saxon Captain, and 
all the rest of my prisoners, each bundled in a plaid, and 
io chopped into as many pieces as there are checks in the tartan.” 

As she paused in her denunciation, Captain Thornton, 
who was within hearing, added, with great coolness, “Present 
my compliments — Captain Thornton’s of the Royals, 
compliments — to the commanding officer, and tell him to 
15 do his duty and secure his prisoner, and not waste a thought 
upon me. If I have been fool enough to have been led into 
an ambuscade by these artful savages, I am wise enough to 
know how to die for it without disgracing the service. I am 
only sorry for my poor fellows,” he said, “that have fallen 
20 into such butcherly hands.” 

“Whist! whist!” exclaimed the Bailie; “are ye weary o’ 
your life? — Ye’ll gie my service to the commanding officer, 
Mr. Osbaldistone — Bailie Nicol Jarvie’s service, a magis- 
trate o’ Glasgow, as his father the deacon was before him — 
25 and tell him, here are a wheen honest men in great trouble, 
and like to come to mair; and the best thing he can do for 
the common good, will be just to let Rob come his wa’s up 
the glen, and nae mair about it. There’s been some ill dune 
here already; but as it has lighted chiefly on the gauger, it 
30 winna be muckle worth making a stir about.” 

With these very opposite injunctions from the parties 
chiefly interested in the success of my embassy, and with the 
reiterated charge of the wife of MacGregor to remember and 


ROB ROY 


331 


detail every word of her injunctions, I was at length suffered 
to depart escorted by Hamish MacGregor ; and Andrew Fair- 
service, chiefly, I believe, to get rid of his clamorous suppli- 
cations, was permitted to attend me. 

After walking with great rapidity about an hour, we arrived 5 
at an eminence covered with brushwood, which gave us a 
commanding prospect down the valley, and a full view of 
the post which the militia occupied. Being chiefly cavalry, 
they had judiciously avoided any attempt to penetrate the 
pass which had been so unsuccessfully essayed by Captain 10 
Thornton. They had taken up their situation with some 
military skill, on a rising grotind in the centre of the little 
valley of Aberfoil, through which the river Forth winds its 
earliest course. It was not expected at that time, that High- 
landers would attack cavalry in an open plain, though late 15 
events 0 have shown that they may do so with success. When 
I first knew the Highlanders, they had almost a superstitious 
dread of a mounted trooper, the horse being so much more 
fierce and imposing in his appearance than the little shelties 
of their own hills, and moreover being trained, as the more 20 
ignorant mountaineers believed, to fight with his feet and 
his teeth. 

The appearance of the picqueted horses, feeding in this 
little vale - — the forms of the soldiers, as they sat, stood, or 
walked, in various groups in the vicinity of the beautiful 25 
river, and of the bare yet romantic ranges of rock which hedge 
in the landscape on either side, — formed a noble foreground ; 
while far to the eastward the eye caught a glance of the lake 
of Menteith ; and Stirling Castle, dimly seen along with the 
blue and distant line of the Ochil Mountains, 0 closed the 30 
scene. 

After gazing on this landscape with great earnestness, 

I descended toward the military post, followed by Andrew 


332 


ROB ROY 


who only retaining his breeches and stockings of the English 
costume, without a hat, bare-legged, with brogues on his 
feet, which Dougal had given him out of compassion, and 
having a tattered plaid to supply the want of all upper gar- 
5 ments, looked as if he had been playing the part of a High- 
land Tom-of-Bedlam.° We had not proceeded far before 
we became visible to one of the videttes, who, riding toward 
us, presented his carbine and commanded me to stand. 
I obeyed, and when the soldier came up, desired to be con- 
io ducted to his commanding officer. I was immediately 
brought where a circle of officers, sitting upon the grass, 
seemed in attendance upon one of superior rank. He wore 
a cuirass of polished steel, over which were drawn the insignia 
of the ancient Order of the Thistle. 0 My friend Garschat- 
15 tachin, and many other gentlemen, some in uniform, others 
in their ordinary dress, but all armed and well attended, 
seemed to receive their orders from this person of distinction. 
Many servants in rich liveries, apparently a part of his house- 
hold, were also in waiting. 

20 Having paid to this nobleman the respect which his rank 
appeared to demand, I acquainted him that I had been an 
involuntary witness to the king’s soldiers having suffered 
a defeat from the Highlanders at the pass of Loch Ard (such 
I had learned was the name of the place where Mr. Thornton 
25 was made prisoner), and that the victors threatened every 
species of extremity to those who had fallen into their power, 
as well as to the Low Country in general, unless their Chief, 
who had that morning been made prisoner, were returned to 
them uninjured. 

30 “You may return to those who sent you,” replied the Duke, 
whom I addressed, “and inform them that I shall certainly 
cause Rob Roy Campbell, whom they call MacGregor, to be 
executed, by break of day, as an outlaw taken in arms, and 


ROB ROY 


333 


deserving death by a thousand acts of violence ; that I should 
be most justly held unworthy of my situation and commission 
did I act otherwise; that I shall know how to protect the 
country against their insolent threats of violence; and that 
if they injure a hair of the head of any of the unfortunate 5 
gentlemen whom an unlucky accident has thrown into their 
power, I will take such ample vengeance, that the very stones 
of their glens shall sing woe for it this hundred years to come ! ” 

I humbly begged leave to remonstrate respecting the honor- 
able mission imposed on me, and touched upon the obvious 10 
danger attending it, when the noble commander replied, that 
such being the case, I might send my servant. 

“The deil be in my feet,” said Andrew, without either having 
respect to the presence in which he stood, or waiting till I 
replied — “ the deil be in my feet, if I gang my tae’s length. 15 
Do the folk think I hae another thrapple in my pouch after 
John Highlandman’s snecked this ane wi’ his joctaleg? or 
that I can dive doun at the tae side of a Highland loch and 
rise at the tother, like a shell-drake? Na, na — ilk ane for 
himsell, and God for us a’. Folk may just make a page o’ 20 
their ain age, and serve themsells till their bairns grow up, 
and gang their ain errands for Andrew. Rob Roy never 
came near the parish of Dreepdaily, to steal either pippin 
or pear frae me or mine.” 

Silencing my follower with some difficulty, I represented 25 
to the Duke the great danger Captain Thornton and Mr. 
Jarvie would certainly be exposed to, and entreated he would 
make me the bearer of such modified terms as might be the 
means of saving their lives. I assured him I should decline 
no danger if I could be of service ; but from what I had heard 30 
and seen, I had little doubt they would be instantly mur- 
dered should the chief of the outlaws suffer death. 

The Duke was obviously much affected. “It was a hard 


334 


ROB ROY 


case,” he said, “and he felt it as such; but he had a para- 
mount duty to perform to the country — Rob Roy must 
die!” 

I own it was not without emotion that I heard this threat 
5 of instant death to my acquaintance Campbell, who had so 
often testified his good-will toward me. Nor was I singular 
in the feeling, for many of those around the Duke ventured 
to express themselves in his favor. “It would be more 
advisable,” they said, “to send him to Stirling Castle, and 
io there detain him a close prisoner, as a pledge for the submission 
and dispersion of his gang. It were a great pity to expose 
the country to be plundered, which, now that the long nights 
approached, it would be found very difficult to prevent, since 
it was impossible to guard every point, and the Highlanders 
15 were sure to select those that were left exposed.” They 
added, that there was great hardship in leaving the unfor- 
tunate prisoners to the almost certain doom of massacre 
denounced against them, which no one doubted would be 
executed in the first burst of revenge. 

20 Garschattachin ventured yet farther, confiding in the 
honor of the nobleman whom he addressed, although he 
knew he had particular reasons for disliking their prisoner. 
“Rob Roy,” he said, “though a kittle neighbor to the Low 
Country, and particularly obnoxious to his Grace, and though 
25 he maybe carried the catheran trade farther than ony man 
o’ his day, was an auld-ferrand carle, and there might be some 
means of making him hear reason ; whereas his wife and sons 
were reckless fiends, without either fear or mercy about them, 
and, at the head of a’ his limmer loons, would be a worse 
30 plague to the country than ever he had been.” 

“Pooh ! pooh !” replied his Grace, “it is the very sense and 
cunning of this fellow which has so long maintained his reign 
— a mere Highland robber would have been put down in as 


ROB ROY 


335 


many weeks as he has flourished years. His gang, without 
him, is no more to be dreaded as a permanent annoyance — 
it will no longer exist — than a wasp without its head, which 
may sting once perhaps, but is instantly crushed into an- 
nihilation.’ ’ 5 

Garschattachin was not so easily silenced. “I am sure, 
my Lord Duke,” he replied, “I have no favor for Rob, and 
he as little for me, seeing he has twice cleaned out my ain 
byres, beside skaith amang my tenants; but, however” 

“But however, Garschattachin,” said the Duke, with a io 
smile of peculiar expression, “I fancy you think such a free- 
dom may be pardoned in a friend’s friend, and Rob’s supposed 
to be no enemy to Major Galbraith’s friends over the water.” 

“If it be so, my lord,” said Garschattachin, in the same 
tone of jocularity, “it’s no the warst thing I have heard of 15 
him. But I wish we heard some news frdm the clans, that 
we have waited for sae lang. I vow to God they’ll keep a 
Hielandman’s word wi’ us — I never ken’d them better — it’s 
ill drawing boots upon trews.” 

“I cannot believe it,” said the Duke. “These gentlemen 20 
are known to be men of honor, and I must necessarily suppose 
they are to keep their appointment. Send out two more 
horsemen to look for our friends. We cannot, till their 
arrival, pretend to attack the pass where Captain Thornton 
has suffered himself to be surprised, and which, to my knowl- 25 
edge, ten men on foot might make good against a regiment 
of the best horse in Europe — Meanwhile let refreshments 
be given to the men.” 

I had the benefit of this last order, the more necessary and 
acceptable, as I had tasted nothing since our hasty meal at 30 
Aberfoil the evening before. The videttes who had been 
despatched returned without tidings of the expected auxili- 
aries, and sunset was approaching, v T hen a Highlander belong- 


336 


ROB ROY 


ing to the clans whose co-operation was expected, appeared 
as the bearer of a letter, which he delivered to the Duke with a 
most profound conge. 

“Now will I wad a hogshead of claret,” said Garschattachin, 
S “that this is a message to tell us that these cursed Highland- 
men, whom we have fetched here at the expense of so much 
plague and vexation, are going to draw off, and leave us to 
do our own business if we can.” 

“It is even so, gentlemen,” said the Duke, reddening with 
io indignation, after having perused the letter, which was written 
upon a very dirty scrap of paper, but most punctiliously 
addressed, “For the much-honored hands of Ane High and 
Mighty Prince, the Duke,” etc., etc., etc. “Our allies,” 
continued the Duke, “have deserted us, gentlemen, and have 
iS made a separate peace with the enemy.” 

“It’s just the fate of all alliances,” said Garschattachin; 
“the Dutch were gaun to serve us the same gate, if we had not 
got the start of them at Utrecht.” 0 

“You are facetious, sir,” said the Duke, with a frown which 
20 showed how little he liked the pleasantry; “but our business 
is rather of a grave cast just now. — I suppose no gentleman 
would advise our attempting to penetrate farther into the 
country, unsupported either by friendly Highlanders, or by 
infantry from Inversnaid ? ” 

25 A general answer announced that the attempt would be 
perfect madness. 

“Nor would there be great wisdom,” the Duke added, 
“in remaining exposed to a night attack in this place. I 
therefore propose that we should retreat to the house of 
30 Duchray 0 and that of Gartartan, and keep safe and sure watch 
and ward until morning. But before we separate, I will 
examine Rob Roy before you all, and make you sensible, by 
your own eyes and ears, of the extreme unfitness of leaving 


ROB ROY 


337 


him space for farther outrage.” He gave orders accordingly, 
and the prisoner was brought before him, his arms belted 
down above the elbow, and secured to his body by a horse- 
girth buckled tight behind him. Two non-commissioned 
officers had hold of him,, one on each side, and two file of men 5 
with carbines and fixed bayonets attended for additional 
security. 

I had never seen this man in the dress of his country, which 
set in a striking point of view the peculiarities of his form. 

A shock-head of red hair, which the hat and periwig of the 10 
Lowland costume had in a great measure concealed, was seen 
beneath the Highland bonnet, and verified the epithet of 
Roy, or Red,° by which he w T as much better known in the Low 
Country than by any other, and is still, I suppose, best re- 
membered. The justice of the appellation was also vindicated 15 
by the appearance of that part of his limbs, from the bottom 
of his kilt to the top of his short hose, which the fashion of 
his country dress left bare, and which was covered with a fell 
of thick, short, red hair, especially around his knees, which 
resembled in this respect, as well as from their sinewy 20 
appearance of extreme strength, the limbs of a red-colored 
Highland bull. Upon the whole, betwixt the effect produced 
by the change of dress, and by my having become acquainted 
with his real and formidable character, his appearance had 
acquired to my eyes something sc much wilder and more 25 
striking than it before presented, that I could scarce recognize 
him to be the same person. 

His manner was bold, unconstrained unless by the actual 
bonds, haughty, and even dignified. He bowed to the Duke, 
nodded to Garschattachin and others, and showed some 30 
surprise at seeing me among the party. 

“It is long since we have met, Mr. Campbell,” said the 
Duke. 

z 


338 


ROB ROY 


“It is so, my Lord Duke ; I could have wished it had been” 
(looking at the fastening on his arms) “when I could have 
better paid the compliments I owe to your Grace ; — but 
there’s a gude time coming.” 

S “No time like the time present, Mr. Campbell,” answered 
the Duke, “for the hours are fast flying that must settle your 
last account with all mortal affairs. I do not say this to 
insult your distress; but you must be aware yourself that 
you draw near the end of your career. I do not deny that 
io you may sometimes have done less harm than others of your 
unhappy trade, and that you may occasionally have ex- 
hibited marks of talent, and even of a disposition which 
promised better things. But you are aware how long you 
have been the terror and the oppressor of a peaceful neighbor- 
15 hood, and by what acts of violence you have maintained 
and extended your usurped authority. You know, in 
short, that you have deserved death, and that you must 
prepare for it.” 

“My Lord,” said Rob Roy, “although I may well lay my 
20 misfortunes at your Grace’s door, yet I will never say that 
you yourself have been the wilful and witting author of them. 
My Lord, if I had thought sae, your Grace would not this 
day have been sitting in judgment on me; for you have been 
three times within good rifle distance of me when you were 
25 thinking but of the red deer, and few people have ken’d me 
miss my aim. But as for them that have abused your Grace’s 
ear, and set you up against a man that was ance as peacefu’ 
a man as ony in the land, and made your name the warrant 
for driving me to utter extremity, — I have had some amends 
30 of them, and, for a’ that your Grace now says, I expect to 
live to hae mair.” 

“I know,” said the Duke, in rising anger, “that you are 
a determined and impudent villain, who will keep his oath 


ROB ROY 


339 


if he swears to mischief; but it shall be my care to pre- 
vent you. You have no enemies but your own wicked 
actions.” 

“Had I called myself Grahame, instead of Campbell, I 
might have heard less about them,” answered Rob Roy, with 5 
dogged resolution. 

“You will do well, sir,” said the Duke, “to warn your wife 
and family and followers, to beware how they use the gentle- 
men now in their hands, as I will requite tenfold on them, 
and their kin and allies, the slightest injury done to any of 10 
his Majesty’s liege subjects.” 

“My Lord,” said Roy in answer, “none of my enemies will 
allege that I have been a bloodthirsty man, and were I now 
wi’ my folk, I could rule four to five hundred wild Hie- 
landers as easy as your Grace those eight or ten lackeys 15 
and foot-boys — But if your Grace is bent to take the head 
away from a house, ye may lay your account there will be 
misrule amang the members. — However, come o’t what 
like, there’s an honest man, a kinsman o’ my ain, maun come 
by nae skaith. Is there ony body here wad do a gude deed 20 
for MacGregor ? — he may repay it, though his hands be 
now tied.” 

The Highlander who had delivered the letter to the Duke 
replied, “I’ll do your will for you, MacGregor; and I’ll gang 
back up the glen on purpose.” 25 

He advanced, and received from the prisoner a message to 
his wife, which, being in Gaelic, I did not understand, but 
I had little doubt it related to some measures to be taken for 
the safety of Mr. Jarvie. 

“Do you hear the fellow’s impudence?” said the Duke; 30 
“he confides in his character of a messenger. His conduct 
is of a piece with his master’s, who invited us to make com- 
mon cause against these freebooters, and have deserted us 


340 


ROB ROY 


so soon as the MacGregors have agreed to surrender the 
Balquhidder lands they were squabbling about. 

“No truth in plaids, no faith in tartan trews 
Chameleon-like, they change a thousand hues." 

5 “Your great ancestor never said so, my Lord," answered 
Major Galbraith; — “and, with submission, neither would 
your Grace have occasion to say it, wad ye but be for begin- 
ning justice at the well-head — Gie the honest man his mear 
again — Let every head wear it’s ane bannet, and the distrac- 
io tions o’ the Lennox wad be mended wi’ them o’ the land." 

“Hush! hush! Garschattachin," said the Duke; “this is 
language dangerous for you to talk to any one, and especially 
to me ; but I presume you reckon yourself a privileged person. 
Please to draw off your party toward Gartartan ; I shall my- 
15 self see the prisoner escorted to Duchray, and send you 
orders to-morrow. You will please grant no leave of absence 
to any of your troopers." 

“Here’s auld ordering and counter-ordering," muttered 
Garschattachin between his teeth. “But patience ! patience ! 
20 — we may ae day play at change seats, the king’s coming." 

The two troops of cavalry now formed, and prepared to 
march off the ground, that they might avail themselves of 
the remainder of daylight to get to their evening quarters. 
I received an intimation, rather than an invitation, to attend 
2 5 the party ; and I perceived, that, though no longer considered 
as a prisoner, I was yet under some sort of suspicion. The 
times were indeed so dangerous, — the great party questions 
of Jacobite and Hanoverian divided the country so effectually, 
— and the constant disputes and jealousies between the 
30 Highlanders and Lowlanders, besides a number of inexplicable 
causes of feud which separated the great leading families in 
Scotland from each other, occasioned such general suspicion, 


ROB ROY 


341 


that a solitary and unprotected stranger was almost sure to 
meet with something disagreeable in the course of his travels. 

I acquiesced, however, in my destination with the best 
grace I could, consoling myself with the hope that I might 
obtain from the captive freebooter some information con- 5 
cerning Rashleigh and his machinations. 




CHAPTER XXXIII 


And when he came to broken brigg, 

He bent his bow and swam ; 

And when he came to grass growing, 

Set down his feet and ran. 

Gil M or rice. 

To ensure the safe custody of the prisoner, the Duke had 
caused him to be placed on horseback behind one of his 
retainers, called, as I was informed, Ewan of Brigglands, 
one of the largest and strongest men who were present. A 
5 horse-belt, passed round the bodies of both, and buckled 
before the yeoman’s breast, rendered it impossible for Rob 
Roy to free himself from his keeper. I was directed to keep 
close beside them, and accommodated fot the purpose with 
a troop-horse. We were as closely surrounded by the soldiers 
io as the width of the road would permit, and had always at 
least one, if not two, on each side, with pistol in hand. An- 
drew Fairservice, furnished with a Highland pony, of which 
they had made prey somewhere or other, was. permitted to 
ride among the other domestics, of whom a great number 
15 attended the line of march, though without falling into the 
ranks of the more regularly trained troopers. 

In this manner we traveled for a certain distance, until 
we arrived at the place where we also were to cross the river. 
The Forth, as being the outlet of a lake, is of considerable 
20 depth, even where less important in point of width, and the 
descent to the ford was by a broken precipitous ravine, which 
only permitted one horseman to descend at once. The rear 

342 


ROB ROY 


343 


and centre of our small body halting on the bank while the 
front files passed down in succession, produced a considerable 
delay, as is usual on such occasions, and even some confusion ; 
for a number of those riders, who made no proper part of the 
squadron, crowded to the ford without regularity, and made 5 
the militia cavalry, although tolerably well drilled, partake 
in some degree of their own disorder. 

It was while we were thus huddled together on the bank 
that I heard Rob Roy whisper to the man behind whom he 
was placed on horseback, “Your father, Ewan, wadna hae 10 
carried an auld friend to the shambles, like a calf, for a’ the 
Dukes in Christendom.” 

Ewan returned no answer, but shrugged, as one who would 
express by that sign that what he was doing was none of his 
own choice. 15 

“And when the MacGregors come down the glen, and ye 
see toom faulds, a bluidy hearth-stane, and the fire flashing 
out between the rafters o’ your house, ye may be thinking 
then, Ewan, that were your friend Rob to the fore, fyou 
would have hgd that safe which it will make your heart 20 
sair to lose.”- 

Ewan of Brigglands again shrugged and groaned, but 
remained silent. 

“It’s a sair thing,” continued Rob, sliding his insinuations 
so gently into Ewan’s ear that they reached no other but mine, 25 
who certainly saw myself in no shape called upon to destroy 
his prospects of escape — “It’s a sair thing, that Ewan of 
Brigglands, whom Roy MacGregor has helped with hand, 
sword, and purse, suld mind a gloom from a great man mair 
than a friend’s life.” 30 

Ewan seemed sorely agitated, but was silent. — We heard 
the Duke’s voice from the opposite bank call, “Bring over 
the prisoner.” 


344 


ROB ROY 


Ewan put his horse in motion, and just as I heard Roy say, 
“Never weigh a MacGregor’s bluid against a broken whang o’ 
leather, for there will be another accounting to gie for it baith 
here and hereafter,” they passed me hastily, and dashing for- 
5 ward rather precipitately, entered the water. 

“Not yet, sir — not yet,” said some of the troopers to me, 
as I was about to follow, while others pressed forward into 
the stream. 

I saw the Duke on the other side, by the waning light, 
io engaged in commanding his people to get into order, as they 
landed dispersedly, some higher, some lower. Many had 
crossed, some were in the water, and the rest were preparing 
to follow, when a sudden splash warned me that MacGregor’s 
eloquence had prevailed on Ewan to give him freedom and 
15 a chance for life. The Duke also heard the sound, and in- 
stantly guessed its meaning. “Dog!” he exclaimed to Ewan 
, as he landed, “where is your prisoner?” and, without waiting 
to hear the apology which the terrified vassal began to falter 
forth, he fired a pistol at his head, whether fatally I know not, 
20 and exclaimed, “Gentlemen, disperse and pursue the villain 
— An hundred guineas for him that secures Rob Roy ! ” 

All became an instant scene of the most lively confusion. 
Rob Roy, disengaged from his bonds, doubtless by Ewan’s 
slipping the buckle of his belt, had dropped off at the horse’s 
25 tail, and instantly dived, passing under the belly of the troop- 
horse which was on his left hand. But as he was obliged to 
come to the surface an instant for air, the glimpse of his tartan 
plaid drew the attention of the troopers, some of whom 
plunged into the river, with a total disregard to their own 
30 safety, rushing, according to the expression of their country, 
through pool and stream, sometimes swimming their horses, 
sometimes losing them and struggling for their own lives. 
Others, less zealous or more prudent, broke off in different 


ROB ROY 


345 


directions, and galloped up and down the banks, to watch 
the places at which the fugitive might possibly land. The 
hollowing, the whooping, the calls for aid at different points, 
where they saw, or conceived they saw, some vestige of him 
they were seeking, — the frequent report of pistols and car- 5 
abines, fired at every object which excited the least suspicion, 

— the sight of so many horsemen riding about, in and out of 
the river, and striking with their long broadswords at whatever 
excited their attention, joined to the vain exertions used by 
their officers to restore order and regularity, — and all this io 
in so wild a scene, and visible only by the imperfect twilight 
of an autumn evening, made the most extraordinary hubbub 
I had hitherto witnessed. I was indeed left alone to observe 
it, for our whole cavalcade had dispersed in pursuit, or at 
least to see the event of the search. Indeed, as I partly 15 
suspected at the time, and afterward learned with certainty, 
many of those who seemed most active in their attempts to 
waylay and recover the fugitive, were, in actual truth, least 
desirous that he should be taken, and only joined in the cry 
to increase the general confusion, and to give Rob Roy a 20 
better opportunity of escaping. 

Escape, indeed, was not difficult for a swimmer so expert 
as the freebooter, as soon as he had eluded the first burst of 
pursuit. At one time he was closely pressed, and several 
blows were made which flashed in the water around him ; the 25 
scene much resembling one of the otter-hunts which I had seen 
at Osbaldistone Hall, where the animal is detected by the 
hounds from his being necessitated to put his nose above the 
stream to vent or breathe, while he is enabled to elude them 
by getting under water again so soon as he has refreshed 30 
himself by respiration. MacGregor, however, had a trick 
beyond the otter; for he contrived, when very closely pur- 
sued, to disengage himself unobserved from his plaid, and 


346 


ROB ROY 


suffer it to float down the stream, where in its progress it 
quickly attracted general attention; many of the horsemen 
were thus put upon a false scent, and several shots or stabs 
were averted from the party for whom they were designed. 

5 Once fairly out of view, the recovery of the prisoner became 
almost impossible, since, in so many places, the river was 
rendered inaccessible by the steepness of its banks, or the 
thickets of alders, poplar, and birch, which, overhanging its 
banks, prevented the approach of horsemen. Errors and 
io accidents had also happened among the pursuers, whose task 
the approaching night rendered every moment more hopeless. 
Some got themselves involved in the eddies of the stream, 
and required the assistance of their companions to save them 
from drowning. Others, hurt by shots or blows in the con- 
15 fused melee, implored help or threatened vengeance, and in 
one or two instances such accidents led to actual strife. The 
trumpets, therefore, sounded the retreat, announcing that 
the commanding officer, with whatsoever unwillingness, had 
for the present relinquished hopes of the important prize 
20 which had thus unexpectedly escaped his grasp, and the 
troopers began slowly, reluctantly, and brawling with each 
other as they returned, again to assume their ranks. I could 
see them darkening, as they formed on the southern bank of 
the river, — whose murmurs, long drowned by the louder 
25 cries of vengeful pursuit, were now heard hoarsely mingling 
with the deep, discontented, and reproachful voices of the 
disappointed horsemen. 

Hitherto I had been as it were a mere spectator, though far 
from an uninterested one, of the singular scene which had 
30 passed. But now I heard a voice suddenly exclaim, “Where 
is the English stranger ? — It was he gave Rob Roy the knife 
to cut the belt.” 

“Cleeve the pock-pudding to the chafts !” cried one voice. 


ROB ROY 


347 


“Weize a brace of balls through his harnpan!” said a 
second. 

“Drive three inches of cauld airn into his brisket !” shouted 
a third. 

And I heard several horses galloping to and fro, with the 5 
kind purpose, doubtless, of executing these denunciations. 

I was immediately awakened to the sense of my situation, 
and to the certainty that armed men, having no restraint 
whatever on their irritated and inflamed passions, would 
probably begin by shooting or cutting me down, and after- 10 
ward investigate the justice of the action. Impressed by 
this belief, I leaped from my horse, and turning him loose, 
plunged into a bush of alder-trees, where, considering the 
advancing obscurity of the night, I thought there was little 
chance of my being discovered. The deep and wheeling 15 
stream of the river, rendered turbid by the late tumult of 
which its channel had been the scene, and seeming yet more 
so under the doubtful influence of an imperfect moonlight, 
had no inviting influence for a pedestrian by no means ac- 
customed to wade rivers, and who had lately seen horsemen 20 
weltering, in this dangerous passage, up to the very saddle- 
laps. At the same time, my prospect, if I remained on the 
side of the river on which I then stood, could be no other than 
of concluding the various fatigues of this day and the pre- 
ceding night, by passing that which was now closing in, al 25 
fresco 0 on the side of a Highland hill. 

After a moment’s reflection, I resolved to measure my 
steps back to the little inn, where I had passed the preceding 
night. I had nothing to apprehend from Rob Roy. He was 
now at liberty, and I was certain, in case of my falling in with 30 
any of his people, the news of his escape would ensure me 
protection. I might thus also show that I had no intention 
to desert Mr. Jarvie in the delicate situation in which he had 


348 


ROB ROY 


engaged himself chiefly on my account. And lastly, it was 
only in this quarter that I could hope to learn tidings concern- 
ing Rashleigh and my father’s papers, which had been the 
original cause of an expedition so fraught with perilous 
5 adventure. I therefore abandoned all thoughts of crossing 
the Forth that evening; and, turning my back on the Fords 
of Frew,° began to retrace my steps toward the little village 
of Aberfoil. 

I was so much lost in thoughts, and in the feelings which 
io they excited, that two horsemen came up behind me without 
my hearing their approach, until one was on each side of me, 
when the left-hand rider, pulling up his horse, addressed me 
in the English tongue — “So ho, friend ! whither so late?” 

“To my supper and bed at Aberfoil,” I replied. 

15 “Are the passes open?” he inquired, with the same com- 
manding tone of voice. 

“I do not know,” I replied ; “I shall learn when I get there. 
But,” I added, the fate of Morris recurring to my recollection, 
“if you are an English stranger, I advise you to turn back till 
20 daylight ; there has been some disturbance in this neighbor- 
hood, and I should hesitate to say it is perfectly safe for 
strangers.” 

“The soldiers had the worst? — had they not?” was the 
reply. 

25 “They had indeed; and an officer’s party were destroyed 
or made prisoners.” 

“Are you sure of that?” replied the horseman. 

“As sure as that I hear you speak,” I replied. “I was an 
unwilling spectator of the skirmish.” 

30 “Unwilling!” continued the interrogator. “Were you 
not engaged in it then ? ” 

“Certainly no,” I replied; “I was detained by the king’s 
officer.” 


ROB ROY 


349 


“On what suspicion? and who are you? or what is your 
name ? ” he continued. 

“I really do not know, sir,” said I, “why I should answer 
so many questions to an unknown stranger. I have told you 
enough to convince you that you are going into a dangerous 5 
and distracted country. If you choose to proceed, it is your 
own affair; but as I ask you no questions respecting your 
name and business, you will oblige me by making no inquiries 
after mine.” 

“Mr. Francis Osbaldistone,” said the other rider, in a voice 10 
the tones of which thrilled through every nerve of my body, 
“should not whistle his favorite airs when he wishes to remain 
undiscovered.” 

And Diana Vernon — for she, wrapped in a horseman’s 
cloak, was the last speaker — whistled in playful mimicry 15 
the second part of the tune which was on my lips when they 
came up. 

“Good God!” I exclaimed, like one thunderstruck, “can 
it be you, Miss Vernon, on such a spot — at such an hour — 
in such a lawless country — in such” 20 

“In such a m sculine dress, you would say. — But what 
would you have? The philosophy of the excellent Corporal 
Nym° is the best after all ; things must be as they may — 
pauca verba ”° 

While she was thus speaking, I eagerly took advantage of 25 
an unusually bright gleam of moonshine, to study the ap- 
pearance of her companion; for it may be easily supposed, 
that finding Miss Vernon in a place so solitary, engaged in a 
journey so dangerous, and under the protection of one gentle- 
man only, were circumstances to excite every feeling of 30 
jealousy, as well as surprise. The rider did not speak with 
the deep melody of Rashleigh’s voice; his tones were more 
high and commanding ; he was taller, moreover, as he sate on 


350 


ROB ROY 


horseback, than that first-rate object of my hate and suspicion. 
Neither did the stranger’s address resemble that of any of my 
cousins ; it had that indescribable tone and manner by which 
we recognize a man of sense and breeding, even in the first 
5 few sentences he speaks. 

The object of my anxiety seemed desirous to get rid of my 
investigation. 

“Diana,” he said, in a tone of mingled kindness and au- 
thority, “give your cousin his property, and let us not spend 
io time here.” 

Miss Vernon had in the meantime taken out a small case, 
and leaning down from her horse toward me, she said, in, a tone 
in which an effort at her usual quaint lightness of expression 
contended with a deeper and more grave tone of sentiment, 
15 “You see, my dear coz, I was born to be your better angel. 
Rashleigh has been compelled to yield up his spoil, and had 
we reached this same village of Aberfoil last night, as we pur- 
posed, I should have found some Highland sylph to have 
wafted to you all these representatives of commercial wealth. 
20 But there were giants and dragons in the way ; and errant- 
knights and damsels of modern times, bold though they be, 
must not, as of yore, run into useless danger — Do not you 
do so either, my dear coz.” 

“Diana,” said her companion, “let me once more warn you 
25 that the evening waxes late, and we are still distant from our 
home.” 

“I am coming, sir, I am coming — Consider,” she added, 
with a sigh, “how lately I have been subjected to control — 
besides, I have not yet given my cousin the packet, and bid 
30 him farewell — for ever. Yes, Frank,” she said, “/or ever ! — 
there is a gulf between us — a gulf of absolute perdition ; — 
where we go, you must not follow — what we do, you must 
not share in — Farewell — be happy !” 


ROB ROY 


351 


In the attitude in which she bent from her horse, which was 
a Highland pony, her face, not perhaps altogether unwillingly, 
touched mine. She pressed my hand, while the tear 0 that 
trembled in her eye found its way to my cheek instead of her 
own. It was a moment never to be forgotten — inexpressibly 5 
bitter, yet mixed with a sensation of pleasure so deeply sooth- 
ing and affecting, as at once to unlock all the flood-gates of 
the heart. It was but a moment, however, for, instantly 
recovering from the feeling to which she had involuntarily 
given way, she intimated to her companion she was ready to 10 
attend him, and putting their horses to a brisk pace, they were 
soon far distant from the place where I stood. 

Heavens knows, it was not apathy which loaded my frame 
and my tongue so much, that I could neither return Miss 
Vernon’s half embrace, nor even answer her farewell. The 15 
word, though it rose to my tongue, seemed to choke in my 
throat like the fatal guilty, which the delinquent who makes 
it his plea, knows must be followed by the doom of death. 
The surprise — the sorrow, almost stupefied me. I remained 
motionless with the packet in my hand, gazing after them, 20 
as if endeavoring to count the sparkles which flew from the 
horses’ hoofs. I continued to look after even these had ceased 
to be visible, and to listen for their footsteps long after the 
last distant trampling had died in my ears. At length, tears 
rushed to my eyes, glazed as they were by the exertion of 25 
straining after what was no longer to be seen. I wiped them 
mechanically, and almost without being aware that they were 
flowing — but they came thicker and thicker ; I felt the 
tightening of the throat and breast — the hysterica passio of 
poor Lear 0 ; and sitting down by the wayside, I shed a flood 30 
of the first and most bitter tears which had flowed from my 
eyes since childhood. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


Dangle. — Egad, I think the interpreter is the harder to be 
understood of the two. 


Critic . 0 


I had scarce given vent to my feelings in this paroxysm, ere 
I was ashamed of my weakness. I remembered that I had 
been for some time endeavoring to regard Diana Vernon, 
when her idea intruded itself on my remembrance, as a friend, 
5 for whose welfare I should indeed always be anxious, but with 
whom I could have little further communication. But the 
almost unrepressed tenderness of her manner, joined to the 
romance of our sudden meeting where it was so little to have 
been expected, were circumstances which threw me entirely 
io off my guard. I recovered, however, sooner than might have 
been expected, and without giving myself time accurately 
to examine my motives, I resumed the path on which I had 
been traveling when overtaken by this strange and un- 
expected apparition. 

15 “I am not,” was my reflection, “transgressing her injunc- 
tion so pathetically given, since I am but pursuing my own 
journey by the only open route. — If I have succeeded in 
recovering my father’s property, it still remains incumbent 
on me to see my Glasgow friend delivered from the situation 
20 in which he 'has involved himself on my account; besides, 
what other place of rest can I obtain for the night excepting 
at the little inn of Aberfoil ? They also must stop there, since 
it is impossible for travelers on horseback to go farther — 
Well, then, we shall meet again — meet for the last time 

352 


ROB ROY 


353 


perhaps — But I shall see and hear her — I shall learn who 
this happy man is who exercises over her the authority of 
a husband — I shall learn if there remains, in the difficult 
course in which she seems engaged, any difficulty which 
my efforts may remove, or aught that I can do to express my 5 
gratitude for her generosity — [for her disinterested friendship.” 

As I reasoned thus with myself, coloring with every plausible 
pretext which occurred to my ingenuity my passionate desire 
once more to see and converse with my cousin, I was suddenly 
hailed by a touch on the shoulder; and the deep voice of a 10 
Highlander, who, walking still faster than I, though I was 
proceeding at a smart pace, accosted me with, “A braw 
night, Maister Osbaldistone — we have met at the mirk hour 
before now.” 

There was no mistaking the tone of MacGregor; he had 15 
escaped the pursuit of his enemies, and was in full retreat to 
his own wilds and to his adherents. He had also contrived 
to arm himself, probably at the house of some secret adherent, 
for he had a musket on his shoulder, and the usual Highland 
weapons by his side. To have found myself alone with such 20 
a character in such a situation, and at this late hour in the 
evening, might not have been pleasant to me in any ordinary 
mood; yet such was the state of my mind, that I welcomed 
the company of the outlaw leader as a relief to my own over- 
strained and painful thoughts; and was not without hopes 25 
that through his means I might obtain some clew of guidance 
through the maze in which my fate had involved me. I 
therefore answered his greeting cordially, and congratulated 
hinr'on his late escape in circumstances when escape seemed 
impossible. 3° 

“Ay,” he replied, “there is as much between the craig and 
the woodie 0 as there is between the cup and the lip. But my 
peril was less than you may think, being a stranger to this 
2a 


354 


ROB ROY 


country. Of those that were summoned to take me, and to 
keep me, and to retake me again, there was a moiety, as cousin 
Nicol Jarvie calls it, that had nae will that I suld be either 
taen, or keepit fast, or retaen; and of tother moiety, there 
5 was ae half was feared to stir me ; and so I had only like the 
fourth part of fifty or sixty men to deal withal.” 

“And enough, too, I should think,” replied I. 

“I dinna ken that,” said he; “but I ken, that turn every 
ill-wilier that I had amang them out upon the green before 
io the Clachan of Aberfoil, I wad find them play with broad- 
sword and target, one down and another come on.” 

He now inquired into my adventures since we entered his 
country, and laughed heartily at my account of the battle we 
had in the inn, and at the exploits of the Bailie with the red- 
15 hot poker. 

“Let Glasgow Flourish!” he exclaimed. “The curse of 
Cromwell 0 on me, if I wad hae wished better sport than to 
see cousin Nicol Jarvie singe Iverach’s plaid, like a sheep’s 
head between a pair of tongs. But my cousin Jarvie,” he 
20 added, more gravely, “has some gentleman’s bluid in his 
veins, although he has been unhappily bred up to a peaceful 
and mechanical craft, which could not but blunt any pretty 
man’s spirit. — Ye may estimate the reason why I could not 
receive you at the Clachan of Aberfoil as I purposed. They 
25 had a fine hosenet for me when I was absent twa or three days 
at Glasgow, upon the king’s business — But I think I broke 
up the league about their lugs — they’ll no be able to hound 
one clan against another as they hae dune. I hope soon to 
see the day when a’ Hielandman will stand shouther to 
30 shouther. But what chanced next?” 

I gave him an account of the arrival of Captain Thornton 
and his party, and the arrest of the Bailie and myself under 
pretext of our being suspicious persons; and upon his more 


ROB ROY 


355 


special inquiry, I recollected the officer had mentioned that, 
besides my name sounding suspicious in his ears, he had orders 
to secure an old and young person, resembling our description. 
This again moved the outlaw's risibility. 

“As man lives by bread," he said, “the buzzards haves 
mistaen my friend the Bailie for his Excellency, and you for 
Diana Vernon — O, the most egregious night-howlets ! ’’ 

“Miss Vernon?" said I, with hesitation, and trembling for 
the answer — “Does she still bear that name? She passed 
but now, along with a gentleman who seemed to use a style io 
of authority." 

“Ay, ay," answered Rob, “she’s under lawfu’ authority 
now ; and full time, for she was a daft hempie — But she’s a 
mettle quean. It’s a pity his Excellency is a thought eldern. 
The like o’ yoursell, or my son Hamish, wad be mair sortable 15 
in point of years." 

Here, then, was a complete downfall of those castles of 
cards which my fancy had, in despite of my reason, so often 
amused herself with building. Although in truth I had 
scarcely anything else to expect, since I could not suppose 20 
that Diana could be traveling in such a country, at such an 
hour, with any but one who had a legal title to protect her, 

I did not feel the blow less severely when it came ; and Mac- 
Gregor’s voice, urging me to pursue my story, sounded in my 
ears without conveying any exact import to my mind. 25 

“You are ill," he said at length, after he had spoken twice 
without receiving an answer; “this day’s wark has been ower 
muckle for ane doubtless unused to sic things." 

The tone of kindness in which this was spoken, recalling 
me to myself, and to the necessity of my situation, I con- 30 
tinued my narrative as well as I could. Rob Roy expressed 
great exultation at the successful skirmish in the pass. 

“They say," he observed, “that king’s chaff is better than 


356 


ROB ROY 


other folk’s corn; but I think that canna be said o’ king’s 
soldiers if they let themselves be beaten wi’ a wheen auld 
carles that are past fighting, and bairns that are no come till’t, 
and wives wi’ their rocks and distaffs, the very wally-draigles 
5 o’ the country-side. And Dougal Gregor, too — wha wad 
hae thought there had been as muckle sense in his tatty-pow 
that ne’er had a better covering than his ain shaggy hassock 
of hair ! — But say away — though I dread what’s to come 
neist — for my Helen’s an incarnate devil when her bluid’s 
io up — puir thing, she has ower muckle reason.” 

I observed as much delicacy as I could in communicating 
to him the usage we had received, but I obviously saw the 
detail gave him great pain. 

“I wad rather than a thousand merks,” he said, “that I 

1 s had been at hame ! To misguide strangers, and forbye a’, 

my ain natural cousin, that had showed me sic kindness — I 
wad rather they had burned half the Lennox in their folly! 
But this comes o’ trusting women and their bairns, that have 
neither measure nor reason in their dealings. However, it’s 
20 a’ owing to that dog of a gauger, wha betrayed me by pre- 
tending a message from your cousin Rashleigh, to meet him 
on the king’s affairs, whilk I thought was very like to be anent 
Garschattachin and a party of the Lennox declaring them- 
selves for King James. Faith ! but I ken’d I was clean 

2 5 beguiled when I heard the Duke was there ; and when they 

strapped the horse-girth ower my arms, I might hae judged 
what was binding me; for I ken’d your kinsman, being, wi’ 
pardon, a slippery loon himsell, is prone to employ those of 
his ain kidney — I wish he mayna hae been at the bottom 
30 o’ the ploy himsell — I thought the chield Morris looked 
devilish queer when I determined he should remain a wad, 
or hostage, for my safe backcoming. But I am come back, 
nae thanks to him, or them that employed him; and the 


ROB ROY 


357 


question is, how the collector loon is to win back himsell — 

I promise him it will not be without a ransom.” 

“Morris,” said I, “has already paid the last ransom which 
mortal man can owe.” 

“Eh! What?” exclaimed my companion hastily; “what 5 
d’ye say ? I trust it was in the skirmish he was killed ? ” 

“He was slain in cold blood after the fight was over, Mr. 
Campbell.” 

“Cold blood? — Damnation!” he said, muttering betwixt 
his teeth — “How fer that, sir? Speak out, sir, and do not 10 
Maister or Campbell me — my foot is on my native heath, 
and my name is MacGregor ! ” 

His passions were obviously irritated ; but without noticing 
the rudeness of his tone I gave him a short and distinct ac- 
count of the death of Morris. He struck the butt of his gun 15 
with great vehemence against the ground, and broke out — 

“I vow to God such a deed might make one forswear kin, 
clan, country, wife, and bairns ! And yet the villain wrought 
long for it. And what is the difference between war sling 
below the water wi’ a stane about your neck, and waving in 20 
the wind wi’ a tether round it ? — it’s but choking after a’, 
and he drees the doom ettled for me. I could have wished, 
though, they had rather putten a ball through him, or a 
dirk ; for the fashion of removing him will give rise to mony 
idle clavers — But every wight has his weird, and we maun 25 
a’ dee when our day comes — And naebody will deny that 
Helen MacGregor has deep wrongs to avenge.” 

So saying, he seemed to dismiss the theme altogether from 
his mind, and proceeded to inquire how I got free from the 
party in whose hands he had seen me. 30 

My story was soon told; and I added the episode of my 
having recovered the papers of my father, though I dared 
not trust my voice to name the name of Diana. 


358 


ROB ROY 


‘‘I was sure ye wad get them,” said MacGregor; — “the 
letter ye brought me contained his Excellency’s pleasure to 
that effect ; and nae doubt it was my will to have aided in it. 
And I asked ye up into this glen in the very errand. But it’s 
5 like his Excellency has foregathered wi’ Rashleigh sooner than 
I expected.” 

The first part of this answer was what most forcibly struck 
me. 

“Was the letter I brought you, then, from this person you 
i o call his Excellency? Who is he? and what is his rank and 
proper name ? ” 

“I am thinking,” said MacGregor, “that since ye dinna ken 
them already they canna be o’ muckle consequence to you, 
and sae I shall say naething on that score. But weel I wot 
15 the letter was frae his ain hand, or, having a sort of business 
of my ain on my hands, being, as ye weel may see, just as 
much as I can fairly manage, I canna say I would hae fashed 
mysell sae muckle about the matter.” 

I now recollected the lights seen in the library — the 
20 various circumstances which had excited my jealousy — the 
glove — the agitation of the tapestry which covered the 
secret passage from Rashleigh’s apartment; and, above all, 
I recollected that Diana retired in order to write, as I then 
thought, the billet to which I was to have recourse in case of 
25 the last necessity. Her hours, then, were not spent in solitude, 
but in listening to the addresses of some desperate agent of 
Jacobitical treason, who was a secret resident within the 
mansion of her uncle ! Other young women have sold them- 
selves for gold, or suffered themselves to be seduced from their 
30 first love from vanity ; but Diana had sacrificed my affections 
and her own to partake the fortunes of some desperate ad- 
venturer — to seek the haunts of freebooters through mid- 
night deserts, with no better hopes of rank or fortune than 


ROB ROY 359 

that mimicry of both which the mock court of the Stuarts 
at St. Germains 0 had in their power to bestow. 

“I will see her,” I said internally, “if it be possible, once 
more. I wall argue with her as a friend — as a kinsman — on 
the risk she is incurring, and I will facilitate her retreat to 5 
France, where she may, with more comfort and propriety, 
as well as safety, abide the issue of the turmoils which the 
political trepanner, to whom she has united her fate, is doubt- 
less busied in putting into motion.” 

“I conclude, then,” I said to MacGregor, after about five 10 
minutes’ silence on both sides, “that his Excellency, since 
you give me no other name for him, was residing in Osbaldi- 
stone Hall at the time with myself ? ” 

“To be sure — to be sure — and in the young lady’s 
apartment, as best reason was.” This gratuitous information 15 
was adding gall to bitterness. “But few,” added Mac- 
Gregor, “ken’d he was derned there, save Rashleigh and Sir 
Hildebrand ; for you were out o’ the question ; and the young 
lads haena wit eneugh to ca’ the cat frae the cream — But 
it’s a bra’ auld-fashioned house ; and what I specially admire 20 
is the abundance o’ holes and bores and concealments — ye 
could put twenty or thirty men in ae corner, and a family 
might live a week without finding them out — whilk, nae 
doubt, may on occasion be a special convenience. I wish 
we had the like o’ Osbaldistone Hall on the braes o’ Craig- 25 
Royston — But we maun gar woods and caves serve the like 
o’ us puir Hieland bodies.” 

“I suppose his Excellency,” said I, “was privy to the first 
accident which befell” 

I could not help hesitating a moment. 30 

“Ye were going to say Morris,” said Rob Roy coolly, for 
he was too much accustomed to deeds of violence for the 
agitation he had at first expressed to be of long continuance. 


360 


ROB ROY 


“I used to laugh heartily at that reik; but I’ll hardly hae the 
heart to do’t again, since the ill-far’ d accident at the Loch. 
Na, na — his Excellency ken’d nought o’ that ploy — it was 
a’ managed at ween Rashleigh and my sell. But the sport that 
5 came after — and Rashleigh’ s shift o’ turning the suspicion 
aff himsell upon you, that he had nae grit favor to frae the 
beginning — and then Miss Die, she maun hae us sweep up 
a’ our spiders’ webs again, and set you out o’ the Justice’s 
claws — and then the frightened craven Morris, that was 
io scared out o’ his seven senses by seeing the real man when 
he was charging the innocent stranger — and the gowk of 
a clerk — and the drunken carle of a justice — Ohon ! ohon ! 
mony a laugh that job’s gien me — and now, a’ that I can 
do for the puir devil is to get some messes said for his soul.” 

15 “May I ask,” said I, “how Miss Vernon came to have so 
much influence over Rashleigh and his accomplices as to 
derange your projected plan?” 

“Mine ! it was none of mine. No man can say I ever laid 
my burden on other folk’s shoulders — it was a’ Rashleigh’s 
20 doings. But, undoubtedly, she had great influence wi’ us 
baith on account of his Excellency’s affection, as weel as that 
she ken’d far ower mony secrets to be lightlied in a matter 
o’ that kind. — Deil take him,” he ejaculated, by way of 
summing up, “that gies women either secret to keep or power 
25 to abuse — fules shouldna hae chapping-sticks.” 

We were now within a quarter of a mile from the village, 
when three Highlanders, springing upon us with presented 
arms, commanded us to stand and tell our business. The 
single word Gregaragh, in the deep and commanding voice of 
30 my companion, was answered by a shout, or rather yell, of joy- 
ful recognition. The intelligence excited such shouts of ju- 
bilation, that the very hills rung again, and young and old, 
men, women, and children, without distinction of sex or age, 


ROB ROY 


361 


came running down the vale to meet us, with all the tumul- 
tuous speed and clamor of a mountain torrent. I thought it 
a fitting precaution to remind MacGregor that I was a 
stranger, and under his protection. He accordingly held 
me fast by the hand, while the assemblage crowded around 5 
him with such shouts of devoted attachment, and joy at his 
return, as were really affecting; nor did he extend to his 
followers what all eagerly sought, the grasp, namely, of 
his hand, until he had made them understand that I was to 
be kindly and carefully used. The mandate of the Sultan 10 
of Delhi 0 could not have been more promptly obeyed ; they 
fairly seized upon me, and bore me in their arms in triumph 
toward Mrs. MacAl pine’s. 

On arrival before her hospitable wigwam, I found power 
and popularity had its inconveniences in the Highlands, as 15 
everywhere else; for, before MacGregor could be permitted 
to enter the house where he was to obtain rest and refreshment, 
he was obliged to relate the story of his escape at least a dozen 
times over, all agreeing that the escape lost nothing in com- 
parison with the exploit of any one of their chiefs since the 20 
days of Dougal Ciar,° the founder of his line. 

The friendly outlaw, now taking me by the arm, conducted 
me into the interior of* the hut. My eyes roved round its 
smoky recesses in quest of Diana and her companion ; but 
they were nowhere to be seen, and I felt as if to make inquiries 25 
might betray some secret motives, which were best concealed. 
The only known countenance upon which my eyes rested was 
that of the Bailie, who, seated on a stool by the fireside, re- 
ceived with a sort of reserved dignity, the welcomes of Rob 
Roy, the apologies which he made for his indifferent accom- 30 
modation, and his inquiries after his health. 

“I am pretty weel, kinsman,” said the Bailie — “indifferent 
weel, I thank ye ; and for accommodations, ane canna expect 


362 


ROB ROY 


to carry about the Saut Market at his tail, as a snail does his 
caup ; — and I am blythe that ye hae gotten out o’ the hands 
o’ your unfreends.” 

“Weel, weel, then,” answered Roy, “what is’t ails ye, man? 

5 — a’s weel that ends weel ! — the warld will last our day — 
Come, take a cup o’ brandy — your father the deacon could 
take ane at an orra time.” 

“It might be he might do sae, Robin, after fatigue — whilk 
has been my lot mair ways than ane this day. But,” he 
io continued, slowly filling up a little wooden stoup which might 
hold about three glasses, “he was a moderate man of his 
bicker, as I am mysell — Here’s missing health to ye, Robin” 
(a sip), “and your weelfare here and hereafter” (another 
taste), “and also to my cousin Helen — and to your twa 
is hopefu’ lads, of whom mair anon.” 

As the Bailie set down his cup he recognized me, and giving 
me a cordial welcome on my return, he waived farther com- 
munication with me for the present. — “I will speak to your 
matters anon; I maun begin, as in reason, wi’ those of my 
20 kinsman. — I presume, Robin, there’s naebody here will 
carry aught o’ what I am gaun to say, to the town-council 
or elsewhere, to my prejudice or to yours?” 

“Make yourself easy on that head, cousin Nicol,” an- 
swered MacGregor; “the tae half o’ the gillies winna ken 
25 what ye say, and the tother winna care — besides that, I 
wad stow the tongue out o’ the head o’ any o’ them that 
suld presume to say ower again ony spech held wi’ me in 
their presence.” 

“Aweel, cousin, sic being the case, and Mr. Osbaldistone 
30 here being a prudent youth, and a safe friend — I’se plainly 
tell ye, ye are breeding up your family to gang an ill gate.” 
Then, clearing his voice with a preliminary hem, he addressed 
his kinsman, checking, as Malvolio 0 proposed to do when 


ROB ROY 


363 


seated in his state, his familiar smile with an austere regard 
of control. — “Ye ken yoursell ye haud light by the law — 
and for my cousin Helen, forbye that her reception o’ me this 
blessed day — whilk I excuse on account of perturbation of 
mind, was muckle on the north side o’ friendly . I say (out- 5 
putting this personal reason of complaint) I hae that to say 
o’ your wife” 

“Say nothing of her, kinsman,” said Rob, in a grave and 
stern tone, “but what is befitting a friend to say, and her 
husband to hear. Of me you are welcome to say your full 10 
pleasure.” 

“Aweel, aweel,” said the Bailie, somewhat disconcerted, 
“we’se let that be a passover — I dinna approve of making 
mischief in families. But here are your twa sons, Hamish 
and Robin, whilk signifies, as I’m gien to understand, James 15 
and Robert — I trust ye will call them sae in future — there 
comes nae glide o’ Hamishes, and Eachines, and Angusses, 
except that they’re the names ane aye chances to see in the 
indictments at the Western Circuits for cow-lifting, at the 
instance of his majesty’s advocate for his majesty’s interest. 20 
Aweel, but the twa lads, as I was saying, they haena sae 
muckle as the ordinar grunds, man, of liberal education — 
they dinna ken the very multiplication table itself, whilk 
is the root of a’ usefu’ knowledge, and they did naething but 
laugh and fleer at me when I tauld them my mind on their 25 
ignorance — It’s my belief they can neither read, write, nor 
cipher, if sic a thing could be believed o’ ane’s ain connections 
in a Christian land.” 

“If they could, kinsman,” said MacGregor, with great 
indifference, “their learning must have come o’ free will, for 30 
whar the deil was I to get them a teacher ? — wad ye hae had 
me put on the gate o’ your Divinity Hall at Glasgow College, 
‘Wanted, a tutor for Rob Roy’s bairns?’” 


364 


ROB ROY 


“Na, kinsman,” replied Mr. Jarvie, “but ye might hae 
sent the lads whar they could hae learned the fear o’ God, and 
the usages of civilized creatures. They are as ignorant as 
the kyloes ye used to drive to market, or the very English 
5 churls that ye sauld them to, and can do naething whatever 
to purpose.” 

“Umph ! ” answered Rob ; “Hamish can bring doun a black- 
cock when he’s on the wing wi’ a single bullet, and Rob can 
drive a dirk through a twa-inch board.” 
io “Sae muckle the waur for them, cousin ! — sae muckle the 
waur for them baith!” answered the Glasgow merchant in 
a tone of great decision; “an they ken naething better than 
that, they had better no ken that neither. Tell me yoursell, 
Rob, what has a’ this cutting, and stabbing, and shooting, 
1 5 and driving of dirks, whether through human flesh or fir deals, 
dune for yoursell ? — and werena ye a happier man at the tail 
o’ your nowte-bestial, when ye were in an honest calling, than 
ever ye hae been since, at the head o’ your Hieland kernes and 
gally-gl asses ? ” 

20 I observed that MacGregor, while his well-meaning kinsman 
spoke to him in this manner, turned and writhed his body like 
a man who indeed suffers pain, but is determined no groan 
shall escape his lips; and I longed for an opportunity to in- 
terrupt the well-meant, but, as it was obvious to me, quite 
25 mistaken strain, in which Jarvie addressed this extraordinary 
person. The dialogue, however, came to an end without my 
interference. 

“And sae,” said the Bailie, “I hae been thinking, Rob, that 
as it may be ye are ower deep in the black book to win a 
30 pardon, and ower auld to mend yoursell, that it wad be a pity 
to bring up twa hopefu’ lads to sic a godless trade as your ain, 
and I wad blythely tak them for prentices at the loom, as 
I began mysell, and my father the deacon afore me, though, 


ROB ROY 


365 


praise to the Giver, I only trade now as wholesale dealer — 
And — and” 

He saw a storm gathering on Rob’s brow, which probably 
induced him to throw in, as a sweetener of an obnoxious 
proposition, what he had reserved to crown his own generosity, 5 
had it been embraced as an acceptable one; — “and Robin, 
lad, ye needna look sae glum, for I’ll pay the prentice-fee, and 
never plague ye for the thousand merks neither.” 

“Ceade millia diaoul, hundred thousand devils!” ex- 
claimed Rob, rising and striding through the hut, “My sons 10 
weavers ! — Millia mollig heart ! — but I wad see every loom 
in Glasgow, beam, traddles, and shuttles, burnt in hell-fire 
sooner ! ” 

With some difficulty I made the Bailie, who was preparing 
a reply, comprehend the risk and impropriety of pressing our 15 
host on this topic, and in a minute he recovered, or reassumed, 
his serenity of temper. 

“But ye mean weel — ye mean weel,” said he; “so gie me 
your hand, Nicol, and if ever I put my sons apprentice, I will 
gie you the refusal o’ them. And, as you say, there’s the 20 
thousand marks to be settled between us. — Here, Eachin, 
MacAnaleister, bring me my sporran.” 

The person he addressed, a tall, strong mountaineer, who 
seemed to act as MacGregor’s lieutenant, brought from some 
place of safety a large leathern pouch, such as Highlanders of 25 
rank wear before them when in full dress, made of the skin of 
the sea-otter, richly garnished with silver ornaments and 
studs. 

“I advise no man to attempt opening this sporran till he 
has my secret,” said Rob Roy ; and then twisting one button 30 
in one direction, and another in another, pulling one stud up- 
ward, and pressing another downward, the mouth of the 
purse, which was bound with massive silver plate, opened and 


366 


ROB ROY 


gave admittance to his hand. He made me remark, as if to 
break short the subject on which Bailie Jarvie had spoken, 
that a small steel pistol was concealed within the purse, the 
trigger of which was connected with the mounting, and made 
5 part of the machinery, so that the weapon would certainly 
be discharged, and in all probability its contents lodged in the 
person of any one, who, being unacquainted with the secret, 
should tamper with the lock which secured his treasure. 
“This,” said he, touching the pistol — “this is the keeper of 
io my privy purse.” 

The simplicity of the contrivance to secure a furred pouch, 
which could have been ripped open without any attempt on 
the spring, reminded me of the verses in the Odyssey, where 
Ulysses, 0 in a yet ruder age, is content to secure his property 
15 by casting a curious and involved complication of cordage 
around the sea-chest in which it was deposited. 

The Bailie put on his spectacles to examine the mechanism, 
and when he had done, returned it with a smile and a sigh, 
observing — “Ah ! Rob, had ither folk’s purses been as weel 
20 guarded, I doubt if your sporran wad hae been as weel filled 
as it kythes to be by the weight.” 

“Never mind, kinsman,” said Rob, laughing; “it will aye 
open for a friend’s necessity, or to pay a just due — and here,” 
he added, pulling out a rouleau of gold, “here is your ten 
25 hundred merks — count them, and see that you are full and 
justly paid.” 

Mr. Jarvie took the money in silence, and weighing it in 
his hand for an instant, laid it on the table, and replied, 
“Rob, I canna tak it — I downa intromit with it — there 
30 can nae glide come o’t — I hae seen ower weel the day what 
sort of a gate your gowd is made in — ill-got gear ne’er 
prospered ; and, to be plain wi’ you, I winna meddle wi’t — 
it looks as there might be bluid on’t.” 


ROB ROY 


367 


“Troutsho !” said the outlaw, affecting an indifference 
which perhaps he did not altogether feel; “it’s gude French 
gowd, and ne’er was in Scotchman’s pouch before mine. Look 
at them, man — they are a’ louis-d’ors,° bright and bonnie as 
the day they were coined.” 5 

“The waur, the waur — just sae muckle the waur, Robin,” 
replied the Bailie, averting his eyes from the money, though, 
like Caesar on the Lupercal, 0 his fingers seemed to itch for it 
— “Rebellion is waur than witchcraft, or robbery either; 
there’s gospel warrant for’t.” io 

“Never mind the warrant, kinsman,” said the freebooter; 
“you come by the gowd honestly, and in payment of a just 
debt — it came from the one king, you may gie it to the other, 
if ye like ; and it will just serve for a weakening of the enemy, 
and in the point where puir King James is weakest too, for, 15 
God knows, he has hands and hearts eneugh, but I doubt he 
wants the siller.” 

“He’ll no get mony Hielanders then, Robin,” said Mr. 
Jarvie, as, again replacing his spectacles on his nose, he undid 
the rouleau, and began to count its contents. 20 

“Nor Lowlanders neither,” said MacGregor, arching his 
eye-brow, and, as he looked at me, directing a glance toward 
Mr. Jarvie, who, all unconscious of the ridicule, weighed each 
piece with habitual scrupulosity ; and having told twice over 
the sum, which amounted to the discharge of his debt, prin- 25 
cipal and interest, he returned three pieces to buy his kins- 
woman a gown, as he expressed himself, and a brace more for 
the twa bairns, as he called them, requesting they might buy 
anything they liked with them except gunpowder. The 
Highlander stared at his kinsman’s unexpected generosity, 30 
but courteously accepted his gift, which he deposited for the 
time in his well-secured pouch. 

The Bailie next produced the original bond for the debt, 


368 


ROB ROY 


on the back of which he had written a formal discharge, which, 
having subscribed himself, he requested me to sign as a witness. 
I did so, and Bailie Jarvie was looking anxiously around for 
another, the Scottish law requiring the subscription of two 
5 witnesses to validate either a bond or acquittance. “You 
will hardly find a man that can write save ourselves within 
these three miles,” said Rob, “but I’ll settle the matter as 
easily;” and, taking the paper from before his kinsman, he 
threw it in the fire. Bailie Jarvie stared in his turn, but 
io his kinsman continued, “That’s a Hieland settlement of 
accounts. The time might come, cousin, were I to keep a’ 
these charges and discharges, that friends might be brought 
into trouble for having dealt with me.” 

The Bailie attempted no reply to this argument, and our 
is supper now appeared in a style of abundance, and even 
delicacy, which, for the place, might be considered as ex- 
traordinary. The greater part of the provisions were cold, 
intimating they had been prepared at some distance; and 
there were some bottles of good French wine to relish pasties 
20 of various sorts of game, as well as other dishes. I remarked 
that MacGregor, while doing the honors of the table with 
great and anxious hospitality, prayed us to excuse the cir- 
cumstance that some particular dish or pastry had been 
infringed on before it was presented to us. “You must 
25 know,” said he to Mr. Jarvie, but without looking toward 
me, “you are not the only guests this night in the MacGregor’s 
country, whilk, doubtless, ye will believe, since my wife and 
the twa lads would otherwise have been maist ready to 
attend you, as weel beseems them.” 

30 Bailie Jarvie looked as if he felt glad at any circumstance 
which occasioned their absence; and I should have been 
entirely of his opinion, had it not been that the outlaw’s 
apology seemed to imply they were in attendance on Diana 


ROB ROY 


369 


and her companion, whom even in my thoughts I could not 
bear to designate as her husband. 

As the Bailie seemed exhausted by fatigue, I resolved to 
adjourn my communication to him until next morning; and 
therefore suffered him to betake himself to bed so soon as he 5 
had finished a plentiful supper. Though tired and harassed, 

I did not myself feel the same disposition to sleep, but rather 
a restless and feverish anxiety, which led to some farther 
discourse betwixt me and MacGregor. 


2b 


CHAPTER XXXV 


A hopeless darkness settles o’er my fate ; 

I’ve seen the last look of her heavenly eyes, — 

I’ve heard the last sound of her blessed voice, — 

I’ve seen her fair form from my sight depart ; 

My doom is closed. 

Count Basil . 0 

“I ken not what to make of you, Mr. Osbaldistone,” said 
MacGregor, as he pushed the flask toward me. “You eat 
not, you show no wish for rest ; and yet you drink not, though 
that flask of Bourdeaux might have come out of Sir Hilde- 
S brand’s ain cellar. Had you been always as abstinent, you 
would have escaped the deadly hatred of your cousin Rash- 
leigh.” 

“Had I been always prudent,” said I, blushing at the scene 
he recalled to my recollection, “I should have escaped a worse 
io evil — the reproach of my own conscience.” 

MacGregor cast a keen and somewhat fierce glance on me, 
as if to read whether the reproof, which he evidently felt, 
had been intentionally conveyed. He saw that I was thinking 
of myself, not of him, and turned his face toward the fire with 
15a deep sigh. I followed his example, and each remained for 
a few minutes wrapt in his own painful reverie. All in the 
hut were now asleep, or at least silent, excepting ourselves. 

MacGregor first broke silence, in the tone of one who takes 
up his determination to enter on a painful subject. “My 
20 cousin Nicol Jarvie means well,’’ he said, “but he presses ower 
hard on the temper and situation of a man like me, considering 
370 


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371 


what I have been — what I have been forced to become — 
and, above all, that which has forced me to become what I 
am.” 

He paused; and, though feeling the delicate nature of the 
discussion in which the conversation was likely to engage me, 5 
I could not help replying, that I did not doubt his present 
situation had much which must be most unpleasant to his 
feelings. “I should be happy to learn,” I added, “that 
there is an honorable chance of your escaping from it.” 

“You speak like a boy,” returned MacGregor, in a low tone 10 
that growled like distant thunder — “like a boy, who thinks 
the auld gnarled oak can be twisted as easily as the young 
sapling. Can I forget that I have been branded as an outlaw 
— stigmatized as a traitor — a price set on my head as if 
I had been a wolf — my family treated as the dam and cubs 15 
of the hill-fox, whom all may torment, vilify, degrade, and 
insult — the very name which came to me from a long and 
noble line of martial ancestors, denounced, as if it were a 
spell to conjure up the devil with ?” 

As he went on in this manner, I could plainly see, that, by 20 
the enumeration of his wrongs, he was lashing himself up into 
a rage, in order to justify in his own eyes the errors they had 
led him into. In this he perfectly succeeded. 

“And they shall find,” he said, in the same muttered but 
deep tone of stifled passion, “that the name they have dared 25 
to proscribe — that the name of MacGregor — is a spell to 
raise the wild devil withal. They shall hear of my vengeance, 
that would scorn to listen to the story of my wrongs — The 
miserable Highland drover, bankrupt, barefooted, — stripped 
of all, dishonored and hunted down, because the avarice of 30 
others grasped at more than that poor all could pay, shall 
burst on them in an awful change. They that scoffed at the 
grovelling worm, and trode upon him, may cry and howl 


372 


ROB ROY 


when they see the stoop of the flying and fiery-mouthed 
dragon. — But why do I speak of all this?” he said, sitting 
down again, and in a calmer tone — “Only ye may opine it 
frets my patience, Mr. Osbaldistone, to be hunted like an 
5 otter, or a sealgh, or a salmon upon the shallows, and that by 
my very friends and neighbors ; and to have as many sword- 
cuts made, and pistols flashed at me, as I had this day in the 
ford of Avondow, 0 would try a saint’s temper, much more 
a Highlander’s, who are not famous for that gude gift, as ye 
io may hae heard, Mr. Osbaldistone. — But ae thing bides wi’ 
me o’ what Nicol said; — I’m vexed for the bairns — I’m 
vexed when I think o’ Hamish and Robert living their father’s 
life.” And yielding to despondence on account of his sons, 
which he felt not upon his own, the father rested his head upon 
1 5 his hand. 

I was much affected, Will. All my life long I have been 
more melted by the distress under which a strong, proud, 
and powerful mind is compelled to give way, than by the more 
easily excited sorrows of softer dispositions. The desire of 
20 aiding him rushed strongly on my mind, notwithstanding the 
apparent difficulty, and even impossibility, of the task. 

“We have extensive connections abroad,” said I : “might 
not your sons, with some assistance — and they are well 
entitled to what my father’s house can give — find an honor- 
25 able resource in foreign service?” 

I believe my countenance showed signs of sincere emotion ; 
but my companion, taking me by the hand, as I was going to 
speak farther, said — “I thank — I thank ye — but let us 
say nae mair o’ this. I did not think the eye of man would 
30 again have seen a tear 0 on MacGregor’s eye-lash.” He 
dashed the moisture from his long gray eye-lash and shaggy 
red eye-brow with the back of his hand. “To-morrow 
morning,” he said, “we’ll talk of this, and we will talk, too, 


ROB ROY 


373 


of your affairs — for we are early starters in the dawn, even 
when we have the luck to have good beds to sleep in. Will 
ye not pledge me in a grace cup ?” I declined the invitation. 

“Then, by the soul of St. Maronoch ! I must pledge myself,” 
and he poured out and swallowed at least half-a-quart of wine. 5 

I laid myself down to repose, resolving to delay my own 
inquiries until his mind should be in a more composed state. 

When I opened my eyes, and recollected my situation, 

I found that MacGregor had already left the hut. I awakened 
the Bailie, who, after many a snort and groan, and some heavy 10 
complaints of the soreness of his bones, in consequence of the 
unwonted exertions of the preceding day, was at length able 
to comprehend the joyful intelligence, that the assets carried 
off by Rashleigh Osbaldistone had been safely recovered. 
The instant he understood my meaning, he forgot all his 15 
grievances, and, bustling up in a great hurry, proceeded to 
compare the contents of the packet which I put into his hands, 
with Mr. Owen’s memorandums, muttering, as he went on, 
“Right, right — the real thing — Praise be blest! we have 
got the stuff, and may leave this doleful country. I shall 20 
never think on Loch-Ard but the thought will gar me grew 
again.” 

“I am sorry, cousin,” said MacGregor, who entered the 
hut during the last observation, “I have not been altogether 
in the circumstances to make your reception sic as I could 25 
have desired — natheless, if you would condescend to visit 
my puir dwelling” 

“Muckle obliged, muckle obliged,” answered Mr. Jai vie, 
very hastily — “But we maun be ganging — we maun be 
jogging, Mr. Osbaldistone and me — business canna wait.” 30 

“Aweel, kinsman,” replied the Highlander, “ye ken our 
fashion — foster the guest that comes — further him that 
maun gang. But ye cannot return by Drymen — I must 


374 


ROB ROY 


set you on Loch Lomond, and boat ye down to the Ferry o’ 
Balloch, 0 and send your nags round to meet ye there. It’s 
a maxim of a wise man never to return by the same road he 
came, providing another’s free to him.” 

. 5 “Ay, ay, Rob,” said the Bailie, “that’s ane o’ the maxims 
ye learned when ye were a drover ; — ye caredna to face the 
tenants where your beasts had been taking a rug of their 
moorland grass in the bv-ganging, and I doubt your road’s 
waur marked now than it was then.” 
io “The mair need not to travel it ower often, kinsman,” 
replied Rob; “but I J se send round your nags to the ferry wi’ 
Dougal Gregor, wha is converted for that purpose into the 
Bailie’s man, coming — not, as ye may believe, from Aberfoil 
1 or Rob Roy’s country, but on a quiet jaunt from Stirling. 
15 See, here he is.” 

“I wadna hae ken’d the creature,” said Mr. Jarvie; nor 
indeed was it easy to recognize the wild Highlander, when he 
appeared before the door of the cottage, attired in a hat, 
periwig, and riding-coat, which had once called Andrew Fair- 
20 service master, and mounted on the Bailie’s horse, and leading 
mine. He received his last orders from his master, to avoid 
certain places where he might be exposed to suspicion — to 
collect what intelligence he could in the course of his journey, 
and to await our coming at an appointed place, near the 
25 Ferry of Balloch. 

At the same time, MacGregor invited us to accompany him 
upon our own road, assuring us that we must necessarily 
march a few miles before breakfast, and recommending a 
dram of brandy as a proper introduction to the journey, in 
30 which he was pledged by the Bailie, who pronounced it “an 
unlawful and perilous habit to begin the day wi’ spirituous 
liquors, except to defend the stomach (whilk was a tender 
part) against the morning mist ; in whilk case his father the 


ROB ROY 


375 


deacon had recommended a dram, by precept and example.” 

“Very true, kinsman,” replied Rob, “for which reason we, 
who are Children of the Mist, have a right to drink brandy 
from morning till night.” 

The Bailie, thus refreshed, was mounted on a small High- 5 
land pony; another was offered for my use, which, however, 

I declined; and we resumed, under very different guidance 
and auspices, our journey of the preceding day. 

Our escort consisted of MacGregor, and five or six of the 
handsomest, best armed, and most athletic mountaineers of 10 
his band, and whom he had generally in immediate attendance 
upon his own person. 

When we approached the pass, the scene of the skirmish of 
the preceding day, and of the still more direful deed which 
followed it, MacGregor hastened to speak, as if it were rather 1 5 
to what he knew must be necessarily passing in my mind, 
than to any thing I had said — he spoke, in short, to my 
thoughts, and not to my words. 

“You must think hardly of us, Mr. Osbaldistone, and it is 
not natural that it should be otherwise. But remember, at 20 
least, we have not been unprovoked. We are a rude and an 
ignorant, and it may be a violent and passionate, but we are 
not a cruel people. The land might be at peace and in law 
for us, did they allow us to enjoy the blessings of peaceful 
law. But we have been a persecuted generation.” 25 

“And persecution,” said the Bailie, “maketh wise men 
mad.” 

“ What must it do then to men like us, living as our fathers 
did a thousand years since, and possessing scarce more lights 
than they did ? Can we view their bluidy edicts against 30 
us — their hanging, heading, hounding, and hunting down 
an ancient and honorable name — as deserving better treat- 
ment than that which enemies give to enemies ? — Here I 


376 


ROB ROY 


stand, have been in twenty frays, an never hurt man but 
when I was in het bluid, an yet they wad betray me and hang 
me like a masterless dog, at the gate of ony great man that 
has an ill will at me.” 

5 I replied, “that the proscription of his name and family 
sounded in English ears as a very cruel and arbitrary law-;” 
and having thus far soothed him, I resumed my propositions 
of obtaining military employment for himself, if he chose it, 
and his sons, in foreign parts. MacGregor shook me very 
io cordially by the hand, and detaining me, so as to permit Mr. 
Jarvie to precede us, a manoeuvre for which the narrowness 
of the road served as an excuse, he said to me — “You are a 
kind-hearted and an honorable youth, and understand, 
doubtless, that which is due to the feelings of a man of honor. 
15 But the heather that I have trode upon when living, must 
bloom ower me when I am dead — my heart would sink, and 
my arm would shrink and wither like fern in the frost, were 
I to lose sight of my native hills ; nor has the world a scene 
that would console me for the loss of the rocks and cairns, 
20 wild as they are, that you see around us. — And Helen — 
what could become of her, were I to leave her the subject of 
new insult and atrocity ? — or how could she bear to be re- 
moved from these scenes, where the remembrance of her 
wrongs is aye sweetened by the recollection of her revenge? 
25 — I was once so hard put at by my Great enemy, as I may well 
ca’ him, that I was forced e’en to gie way to the tide, and 
removed myself and my people and family from our dwellings 
in our native land, and to withdraw for a time into Mac- 
Callum More’s country — and Helen made a Lament on our 
30 departure, as weel as MacRimmon 0 himsell could hae framed 
it — and so piteously sad and waesome, that our hearts 
amaist broke as we sate and listened to her — it was like the 
wailing of one that mourns for the mother that bore him — the 


ROB ROY 


377 


tears came down the rough faces of our gillies as they hark- 
ened ; and I wad not have the same touch of heartbreak 
again, no, not to have all the lands that ever were owned 
by MacGregor.” 

“But your sons,” I said — “they are at the age when your 5 
countrymen have usually no objection to see the world?” 

“And I should be content,” he replied, “that they pushed 
their fortunes in the French or Spanish service, as is the wont 
of Scottish cavaliers of honor; and last night your plan 
seemed feasible eneugh — But I hae seen his Excellency this 10 
morning before ye were up.” 

“Did he then quarter so near us?” said I, my bosom 
throbbing with anxiety. 

“Nearer than ye thought,” was MacGregor’s reply; “but 
he seemed rather in some shape to jalouse your speaking to 15 
the young leddy; and so you see” 

“There was no occasion for jealousy,” I answered, with 
some haughtiness; — “I should not have intruded on his 
privacy.” 

“But ye must not be offended, or look out from amang 20 
your curls then, like a wild-cat out of an ivy-tod, for ye are 
to understand that he wishes most sincere weel to you, and 
has proved it. And it’s partly that whilk has set the heather 
on fire e’en now.” 

“Heather on fire?” said I. “I do not understand you.” 25 

“Why,” resumed MacGregor, “ye ken weel eneugh that 
women and gear are at the bottom of a’ the mischief in this 
warld. I hae been misdoubting your cousin Rashleigh since 
ever he saw that he wasna to get Die Vernon for his marrow, 
and I think he took grudge at his Excellency mainly on that 30 
account. But then came the splore about the surrendering 
your papers — and we hae now gude evidence, that, sae soon 
as he was compelled to yield them up, he rade post to Stirling, 


ROB ROY 


378 

and tauld the Government all and mair than all, that was 
gaun doucely on amang us hill-folk ; and doubtless, that was 
the way that the country was laid to take his Excellency and 
the leddy, and to make sic an unexpected raid on me. And 
5 I hae as little doubt that the poor deevil Morris, whom he 
could gar believe onything, was egged on by him, and some 
of the Lowland gentry, to trepan me in the gate he tried to 
do. But if Rashleigh Osbaldistone were baith the last and 
the best of his name, and granting that he and I ever forgather 
io again, the fiend go down my weasand with a bare blade at 
his belt, if we part before my dirk and his best blude are weel 
acquainted thegither ! ” 

He pronounced the last threat with an ominous frown, and 
the appropriate gesture of his hand upon his dagger. 

15 “I should almost rejoice at what has happened,” said I, 
“could I hope that Rashleigh’s treachery might prove the 
means of preventing the explosion of the rash and desperate 
intrigues in which I have long suspected him to be a prime 
agent.” 

20 “Trow ye na that,” said Rob Roy; “traitor’s word never 
yet hurt honest cause. He was ower deep in our secrets, that’s 
true ; and had it not been so, Stirling and Edinburgh Castles 
would have been baith in our hands by this time, or briefly 
hereafter, whilk is now scarce to be hoped for. But there 
25 are ower mony engaged, and far ower gude a cause to be gien 
up for the breath of a traitor’s tale, and that will be seen and 
heard of ere it be lang. And so, as I was about to say, the best 
of my thanks to you for your offer anent my sons, whilk last 
night I had some thoughts to have embraced in their behalf. 
30 But I see that this villain’s treason will convince our gret folks 
that they must instantly draw to a head, and make a blow 
for it, or be taen in their houses, coupled up like hounds, and 
driven up to London like the honest noblemen and gentlemen 


ROB ROY 


379 


in the year seventeen hundred and seven. 0 Civil war is like 
a cockatrice ; — we have sitten hatching the egg that held 
it for ten years, and might hae sitten on for ten years mair, 
when in comes Rashleigh, and chips the shell, and out bangs 
the wonder amang us, and cries to fire and sword. Now in 5 
sic a matter I’ll hae need o’ a’ the hands I can mak ; and, 
nae disparagement to the Kings of France and Spain, whom I 
wish very weel to, King James is as gude a man as ony o’ 
them, and has the best right to Hamish and Rob, being his 
natural-born subjects.” 10 

I easily comprehended that these words boded a general 
national convulsion ; and, as it would have been alike useless 
and dangerous to have combated the political opinions of my 
guide, at such a place and moment, I contented myself with 
regretting the promiscuous scene of confusion and distress 15 
likely to arise from any general exertion in favor of the exiled 
royal family. 

“Let it come, man — let it come,” answered MacGregor; 
“ye never saw dull weather clear without a shower; and if 
the world is turned upside down, why, honest men have the 20 
better chance to cut bread out of it.” 

I again attempted to bring him back to the subject of Diana ; 
but although on most occasions and subjects he used a free- 
dom of speech which I had no great delight in listening to, 
yet upon that alone which was most interesting to me, he 25 
kept a degree of scrupulous reserve, and contented himself 
with intimating, “that he hoped the leddy would be soon in 
a quieter country than this was like to be for one while.” I 
was obliged to be content with this answer, and to proceed 
in the hope that accident might, as on a former occasion, 30 
stand my friend, and allow me at least the sad gratification 
of bidding farewell to the object which had occupied such 
a share of my affections, so much beyond even what 


380 


ROB ROY 


I had supposed, till I was about to be separated from 
her for ever. 

We pursued the margin of the lake for about six English 
miles, through a devious and beautifully variegated path, 
5 until we attained a sort of Highland farm, or assembly of 
hamlets, near the head of that fine sheet of water, called, 
if I mistake not, Lediart, 0 or some such name. We ascended 
about two hundred yards from the shores of the lake, guided 
by a brawling brook, and left on the right hand four or five 
io Highland huts, with patches of arable land around them, so 
small as to show that they must have been worked with the 
spade rather than the plough, cut as it were out of the sur- 
rounding copswood, and waving with crops of barley and oats. 
Above this limited space the hill became more steep ; and on 
i s its edge we descried the glittering arms and waving drapery 
of about fifty of MacGregor’s followers. They were stationed 
on a spot, the recollection of which yet strikes me with ad- 
miration. The brook, hurling its waters downward from the 
mountain, had in this spot encountered a barrier rock, over 
20 which it had made its way by two distinct leaps. The first 
fall, across which a magnificent old oak, slanting out from the 
farther bank, partly extended itself as if to shroud the dusky 
stream of the cascade, might be about twelve feet high ; the 
broken waters were received in a beautiful stone basin, almost 
25 as regular as if hewn by a sculptor ; and after wheeling around 
its flinty margin, they made a second precipitous dash, 
through a dark and narrow chasm, at least fifty feet in depth, 
and from thence, in a hurried, but comparatively a more 
gentle course, escaped to join the lake. 

30 With the natural taste which belongs to mountaineers, and 
especially to the Scottish Highlanders, whose feelings, I have 
observed, are often allied with the romantic and poetical, 
Hob Roy’s wife and followers had prepared our morning 


ROB ROY 


381 


repast in a scene well calculated to impress strangers with 
some feelings of awe. They are also naturally a grave and 
proud people, and, however rude in our estimation, carry 
their ideas of form and politeness to an excess that would 
appear overstrained, except from the demonstration of 5 
superior force which accompanies the display of it; for it 
must be granted that the air of punctilious deference and rigid 
etiquette which would seem ridiculous in an ordinary peasant, 
has, like the salute of a corps-de-garde ° a propriety when ten- 
dered by a Highlander completely armed. There was, accord- 10 
ingly, a good deal of formality in our approach and reception. 

As we advanced, we heard the wild notes of the bagpipes, 
which lost their natural discord from being mingled with the 
dashing sound of the cascade. When we came close, the wife 
of MacGregor came forward to meet us. Her dress was 1 5 
studiously arranged in a more feminine taste than it had been 
on the preceding day, but her features wore the same lofty, 
unbending, and resolute character; and as she folded my 
friend the Bailie in an unexpected and apparently unwelcome 
embrace, I could perceive by the agitation of his wig, his 20 
back, and the calves of his legs, that he felt much like to one 
who feels himself suddenly in the grip of a she-bear, without 
being able to distinguish whether the animal is in kindness 
or in wrath. 

“Kinsman/’ she said, “you are welcome — and you, too, 25 
stranger,” she added, releasing my alarmed companion, who 
instinctively drew back and settled his wig, and addressing 
herself to me — “you also are welcome. You came,” she 
added, “to our unhappy country, when our bloods were 
chafed, and our hands were red. Excuse the rudeness that 30 
gave you a rough welcome, and lay it upon the evil times, 
and not upon us.” All this was said with the manners of a 
princess, and in the tone and style of a court. Nor was there 


382 


ROB ROY 


the least tincture of that vulgarity, which we naturally attach 
to the Lowland Scottish. There was a strong provincial 
accentuation, but, otherwise, the language rendered by 
Helen MacGregor, out of the native and poetical Gaelic, into 
5 English, which she had acquired as we do learned tongues, 
but had probably never heard applied to the mean purposes 
of ordinary life, was graceful, flowing, and declamatory. 
Her husband, who had in his time played many parts, used a 
much less elevated and emphatic dialect ; — but even his 
io language rose in purity of expression, as you may have re- 
marked, if I have been accurate in recording it, when the 
affairs which he discussed were of an agitating and important 
nature ; and it appears to me in his case, and in that of some 
other Highlanders whom I have known, that, when familiar 
15 and facetious, they used the Lowland Scottish dialect, — 
when serious and impassioned, their thoughts arranged 
themselves in the idiom of their native language ; and in the 
latter case, as they uttered the corresponding ideas in English, 
the expressions sounded wild, elevated, and poetical. In 
20 fact, the language of passion is almost always pure as well as 
vehement, and it is no uncommon thing to hear a Scotchman, 
when overwhelmed by a countryman with a tone of bitter 
and fluent upbraiding, reply by way of taunt to his adversary, 
“You have gotten to your English.” 

25 Be this as it may, the wife of MacGregor invited us to a 
refreshment spread out on the grass, which abounded with 
all the good things their mountains could offer, but was 
clouded by the dark and undisturbed gravity which sat on 
the brow of our hostess, as well as by our deep and anxious 
30 recollection of what had taken place on the preceding day. 
It was in vain that the leader exerted himself to excite mirth ; 
— a chill hung over our minds, as if the feast had been fu- 
nereal ; and every bosom felt light when it was ended. 


ROB ROY 


383 


“Adieu, cousin,” she said to Mr. Jarvie, as we rose from 
the entertainment ; “the best wish Helen MacGregor can give 
to a friend is, that he may see her no more.” 

The Bailie struggled to answer, probably with some com- 
monplace maxim of morality ; — but the calm and melan- 5 
choly sternness of her countenance bore down and disconcerted 
the mechanical and formal importance of the magistrate. 
He coughed, — hemmed, — bowed, — and was silent. 

“For you, stranger,” she said, “I have a token, from one 

whom you can never” 10 

“Helen!” interrupted MacGregor, in a loud and stern 
voice, “what means this ? — have you forgotten the charge ? ” 
“MacGregor,” she replied, “I have forgotten nought that 
is fitting for me to remember. It is not such hands as these,” 
and she stretched forth her long, sinewy, and bare arms, 15 
“that are fitting to convey love-tokens, were the gift con- 
nected with aught but misery. Young man,” she said, 
presenting me with a ring, which I well remembered as one 
of the few ornaments that Miss Vernon sometimes wore, 
“this comes from one whom you will never see more. If it is 20 
a joyless token, it is well fitted to pass through the hands of 
one to whom joy can never be known. Her last words were 
— Let him forget me for ever.” 

“And can she,” I said, almost without being conscious that 
I spoke, “suppose that is possible?” 25 

“All may be forgotten,” said the extraordinary female who 
addressed me, — “all — but the sense of dishonor, and the 
desire of vengeance.” 

“Seid suas!”° cried the MacGregor, stamping with im- 
patience. The bagpipes sounded, and with their' thrilling 30 
and jarring tones cut short our conference. Our leave of our 
hostess was taken by silent gestures; and we resumed our 
journey with an additional proof on my part, that I was 
beloved by Diana, and was separated from her for ever. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


Farewell to the land where the clouds love to rest, 

Like the shroud of the dead, on the mountain’s cold breast ; 
To the cataract’s roar where the eagles reply, 

And the lake her lone bosom expands to the sky. 

Our route lay through a dreary, yet romantic country, 
which the distress of my own mind prevented me from re- 
marking particularly, and which, therefore, I will not attempt 
to describe. The lofty peak of Ben Lomond, here the pre- 
S dominant monarch of the mountains, lay on our right hand, 
and served as a striking landmark. I was not awakened from 
my apathy, until after a long and toilsome walk, we emerged 
through a pass in the hills, and Loch Lomond opened before 
us. This noble lake, boasting innumerable beautiful islands, 
io of every varying form and outline which fancy can frame, — 
its northern extremity narrowing until it is lost among dusky 
and retreating mountains, — while, gradually widening as 
it extends to the southward, it spreads its base around the 
indentures and promontories of a fair and fertile land, af- 
15 fords one of the most surprising, beautiful, and sublime 
spectacles in nature. The eastern side, peculiarly rough and 
rugged, was at this time the chief seat of MacGregor and his 
clan, — to curb whom, a small garrison 0 had been stationed 
in a central position betwixt Loch Lomond and another lake. 
20 The extreme strength of the country, however, with the 
numerous passes, marshes, caverns, and other places of con- 
cealment or defence, made the establishment of this little fort 

384 


ROB ROY 


385 


seem rather an acknowledgment of the danger, than an 
effectual means of securing against it. 

On more than one occasion, as well as on that which I 
witnessed, the garrison suffered from the adventurous spirit 
of the outlaw and his followers. These advantages were 5 
never sullied by ferocity when he himself was in command ; 
for, equally good-tempered and sagacious, he understood 
well the danger of incurring unnecessary odium. I learned 
with pleasure that he had caused the captives of the preced- 
ing day to be liberated in safety; and many traits of mercy, 10 
and even of generosity, are recorded of this remarkable man 
on similar occasions. 

A boat waited for us in a creek beneath a huge rock, 
manned by four lusty Highland rowers; and our host took 
leave of us with great cordiality, and even affection. Be- 15 
twixt him and Mr. Jarvie, indeed, there seemed to exist a 
degree of mutual regard, which formed a strong contrast 
to their different occupations and habits. After kissing 
each other very lovingly, and when they were just in the 
act of parting, the Bailie, in the fulness of his heart, and 20 
with a faltering voice, assured his kinsman, “that if ever an 
hundred pund, or even twa hundred, would put him or his 
family in a settled way, he need but just send a line to the 
Saut-Market ; ” and Rob, grasping his basket-hilt with one 
hand, and shaking Mr. Jarvie’s heartily with the other, 25 
protested, “that if ever anybody should affront his kinsman, 
an he would but let him ken, he would stow his lugs out of his 
head, were he the best man in Glasgow.” 

With these assurances of mutual aid and continued good-will, 
we bore away from the shore, and took our course for the 30 
southwestern angle of the lake, where it gives birth to the 
river Leven.° Rob Roy remained for some time standing 
on the rock from beneath which we had departed, conspicuous 
2c 


386 


ROB ROY 


by his long gun, waving tartans, and the single plume in his 
cap, which in those days denoted the Highland gentleman 
and soldier ; although I observe that the present military taste 
has decorated the Highland bonnet with a quantity of black 
5 plumage resembling that which is borne before funerals. At 
length, as the distance increased between us, we saw him turn 
and go slowly up the side of the hill, followed by his immediate 
attendants or body-guard. 

We performed our voyage for a long time in silence, inter- 
io rupted only by the Gaelic chant 0 which one of the rowers sung 
in low irregular measure, rising occasionally into a wild chorus, 
in' which the others joined. 

My own thoughts were sad enough ; — yet I felt something 
soothing in the magnificent scenery with which I was sur- 
15 rounded ; and thought, in the enthusiasm of the moment, that 
had my faith been that of Rome, I could have consented to 
live and die a lonely hermit in one of the romantic and beau- 
tiful islands amongst which our boat glided. 

The Bailie had also his speculations, but they were of some- 
20 what a different complexion ; as I found when, after about an 
hour’s silence, during which he had been mentally engaged in 
the calculations necessary, he undertook to prove the possi- 
bility of draining the lake, and “giving to plough and harrow 
many hundred, ay, many a thousand acres, from whilk no 
25 man could get earthly gude e’enow, unless it were a gedd° or a 
dish of perch now and then.” 

Amidst the long discussion, which he “crammed into mine 
ear against the stomach of my sense,” I only remember, that 
it was part of his project to preserve a portion of the lake just 
30 deep enough and broad enough for the purposes of water-car- 
riage, so that coal-barges and gabbards should pass as easily 
between Dumbarton and Glenfalloch as between Glasgow 
and Greenock. 0 


ROB ROY 


387 


At length we neared our distant place of landing, adjoining 
to the ruins of an ancient castle, and just where the lake dis- 
charges its superfluous waters into the Leven. There we 
found Dougal with the horses. The Bailie had formed a 
plan with respect to “the creature/’ as well as upon the drain- 5 
age of the lake ; and, perhaps in both cases, with more regard 
to the utility than to the practical possibility of his scheme. 
“Dougal,” he said, “ye are a kindly creature, and hae the 
sense and feeling o’ what is due to your betters — and I’m 
e’en wae for you, Dougal, for it canna be but that in the life 10 
ye lead you suld get a Jeddart 0 cast ae day suner or later. 

I trust, considering my services as a magistrate, and my 
father the deacon’s afore me, I hae interest eneugh in the 
council to gar them wink a wee at a waur faut than yours. 
Sae I hae been thinking, that if ye will gang back to Glas- 15 
gow wi’ us, being a strong-backit creature, ye might be 
employed in the warehouse till something better suld cast up.” 

“Her nainsell muckle obliged till the Bailie’s honor,” 
replied Dougal; “but teil be in her shanks fan she gangs on 
a causeway’d street, unless she be drawn up the Gallowgate 20 
wi’ tows, as she was before.” 

In fact, I afterward learned that Dougal had originally come 
to Glasgow as a prisoner, from being concerned in some depre- 
dation, but had somehow found such favor in the eyes of the 
jailor, that, with rather overweeing confidence, he had re- 25 
tained him in his service as one of the turnkeys ; a task which 
Dougal had discharged with sufficient fidelity, so far as was 
known, until overcome by his clannish prejudices on the 
unexpected appearance of his leader. 

Astonished at receiving so round a refusal to so favorable 30 
an offer, the Bailie, turning to me, observed, that the “creature 
was a natural-born idiot.” I testified my own gratitude in 
a way which Dougal much better relished, by slipping a couple 


388 


ROB ROY 


\ 

of guineas into his hand. He no sooner felt the touch of the 
gold, than he sprung twice or thrice from the earth with the 
agility of a wild buck, flinging out first one heel and then 
another, in a manner which would have astonished a French 
5 dancing-master. He ran to the boatmen to show them the 
prize, and a small gratuity made them take part in his rap- 
tures. He then, to use a favorite expression of the dramatic 
John Bunyan, 0 “went on his way, and I saw him no more.” 

The Bailie and I mounted our horses, and proceeded on 
io the road to Glasgow. When we had lost the view of the lake, 
and its superb amphitheatre of mountains, I could not help 
expressing with enthusiasm, my sense of its natural beauties, 
although I was conscious that Mr. Jarvie was a very uncon- 
genial spirit to communicate with on such a subject. 

15 “Ye are a young gentleman,” he replied, “and an English- 
man, and a’ this may be very fine to you ; but for me, wha am 
a plain man, and ken something o’ the different values of land, 
I wadna gie the finest sight we hae seen in the Highlands, for 
the first keek o’ the Gorbals o’ Glasgow; and if I were ance 
20 there, it suldna be every fule’s errand, begging your pardon, 
Mr. Francis, that suld take me out o’ sight o’ Saint Mungo’s 
steeple again ! ” 

The honest man had his wish ; for, by dint of traveling very 
late, we arrived at his own house that night, or rather on the 
25 succeeding morning. Having seen my worthy fellow- traveler 
safely consigned to the charge of the considerate and officious 
Mattie, I proceeded to Mrs. Fly ter ’s, in whose house, even at 
this unwonted hour, light was still burning. The door was 
opened by no less a person than Andrew Fairservice himself, 
30 who, upon the first sound of my voice, set up a loud shout of 
joyful recognition, and, without uttering a syllable, ran up 
stairs toward a parlor on the second floor, from the windows 
of which the light proceeded. Justly conceiving that he went 


ROB ROY 


389 


to announce my return to the anxious Owen, I followed him 
upon the foot. Owen was not alone, there was another in the 
apartment — it was my father. 

The first impulse was to preserve the dignity of his usual 
equanimity, — “Francis, I am glad to see you.” The next 5 
was to embrace me tenderly, — “My dear — dear son!” 

— Owen secured one of my hands, and wetted it with his 
tears, while he joined in gratulating my return. These are 
scenes which address themselves to the eye and to the heart 
rather than to the ear — My old eyelids still moisten at the 10 
recollection of our meeting; but your kind and affectionate 
feelings can well imagine what I should find it impossible to 
describe. 

When the tumult of our joy was over, I learned that my 
father had arrived from Holland shortly after Owen had set 15 
off for Scotland. Determined and rapid in all his movements 
he only stopped to provide the means of discharging the 
obligations incumbent on his house. By his extensive 
resources, with funds enlarged, and credit fortified, by emi- 
nent success in his continental speculation, he easily accom- 20 
plished what perhaps his absence alone rendered difficult, 
and set out for Scotland to exact justice from Rashleigh 
Osbaldistone, as well as to put order to his affairs in that 
country. My father’s arrival in full credit, and with the 
ample means of supporting his engagements honorably, as 25 
well as benefiting his correspondents in future, was a stunning 
blow to MacVittie and Company, who had conceived his star 
set for ever. Highly incensed at the usage his confidential 
clerk and agent had received at their hands, Mr. Osbaldistone 
refused every tender of apology and accommodation ; and 30 
having settled the balance of their account, announced to 
them that, with all its numerous contingent advantages, that 
leaf of their ledger was closed for ever. 


390 


ROB ROY 


While he enjoyed this triumph over false friends, he was 
not a little alarmed on my account. Owen, good man, had 
not supposed it possible that a journey of fifty or sixty miles, 
which may be made with so much ease and safety in any 
5 direction from London, could be attended with any particular 
danger. But he caught alarm, by sympathy, from my father, 
to whom the country, and the lawless character of its in- 
habitants, were better known. 

These apprehensions were raised to agony, when, a few 
i o hours before I arrived, Andrew Fairservice made his ap- 
pearance, with a dismal and exaggerated account of the un- 
certain state in which he had left me. The nobleman with 
whose troops he had been a sort of prisoner, had, after exami- 
nation, not only dismissed him, but furnished him with the 
15 means of returning rapidly to Glasgow, in order to announce 
to my friends my precarious and unpleasant situation. 

Andrew was one of those persons who have no objection 
to the sort of temporary attention and woeful importance 
which attaches itself to the bearer of bad tidings, and had 
20 therefore by no means smoothed down his tale in the telling, 
especially as the rich London merchant himself proved un- 
expectedly one of the auditors. He went at great length into 
an account of the dangers I had escaped, chiefly, as he in- 
sinuated, by means of his own experience, exertion, and 
25 sagacity. 

“What was to come of me now, when my better angel, in 
his (Andrew’s) person was removed from my side, it was,” 
he said, “sad and sair to conjecture; that the Bailie was nae 
better than just naebody at a pinch, or something waur, for 
30 he was a conceited body — and Andrew hated conceit — but 
certainly, atween the pistols and the carabines of the troopers, 
that rappit aff the tane after the tother as fast as hail, and the 
dirks and claymores o’ the Hielanders, and the deep waters 


ROB ROY 


391 


and weils o’ the Avondow, it was to be thought there wad be 
a puir account of the young gentleman/’ 

This statement would have driven Owen to despair, had he 
been alone and unsupported ; but my father’s perfect knowl- 
edge of mankind enabled him easily to appreciate the character 5 
of Andrew, and the real amount of his intelligence. Stripped 
of all exaggeration, however, it was alarming enough to a 
parent. He determined to set out in person to obtain my 
liberty by ransom or negotiation, and was busied with Owen 
till a late hour, in order to get through some necessary cor- 10 
respondence, and devolve on the latter some business which 
should be transacted during his absence ; and thus it chanced 
that I found them watchers. 

It was late ere we separated to rest, and, too impatient long 
to endure repose, I was stirring early the next morning. 1 5 

My father’s first care, when he arose, was to visit Mr. Jarvie, 
for whose kindness he entertained the most grateful senti- 
ments, which he expressed in very few, but manly and nervous 
terms. He explained the altered state of his affairs, and offered 
the Bailie, on such terms as could not but be both advan- 20 
tageous and acceptable, that part in his concerns which had 
been hitherto managed by MacVittie and Company. The 
Bailie heartily congratulated my father and Owen on the 
changed posture of their affairs, and, without affecting to 
disclaim that he had done his best to serve them, when 25 
matters looked otherwise, he said, “He had only just acted 
as he wad be done by — that, as to the extension of their 
correspondence, he frankly accepted it with thanks. Had 
MacVittie’s folk behaved like honest men,” he said, “he wad 
hae liked ill to hae come in ahint them, and out afore them 30 
this gate. But it’s otherwise, and they maun e’en stand the 
loss.” 

The Bailie then pulled me by the sleeve into a corner, and, 


392 


ROB ROY 


after again cordially wishing me joy, proceeded, in rather an 
embarrassed tone — “I wad heartily wish, Maister Francis, 
there suld be as little said as possible about the queer things 
we saw up yonder awa. There’s nae gude, unless ane were 
5 judicially examinate, to say ony thing about that awfu’ job 
o’ Morris — and the members o’ the council wadna think it 
creditable in ane of their body to be fighting wi’ a wheen 
Hielandman, and singeing their plaidens — And abun a’, 
though I am a decent sponsible man, when I am on my right 
io end, I canna but think I maun hae made a queer figure with- 
out my hat and my periwig, hinging by the middle like baw- 
drons, or a cloak flung ower a cloak-pin. Bailie Grahame 
wad hae an unco" hair in my neck an he got that tale by the 
end.” . 

15 I could not suppress a smile when I recollected the Bailie’s 
situation, although I certainly thought it no laughing matter 
at the time. The good-natured merchant was a little con- 
fused, but smiled also when he shook his head — “I see how 
it is — I see how it is. But say naething about it — there’s 
20 a gude callant ; and charge that lang-tongued, conceited, 
upsetting serving man o’ yours, to sae naething neither. I 
wadna for ever sae muckle that even the lassock Mattie ken’d 
onything about it. I wad never hear an end o’t.” 

He was obviously relieved from his impending fears of 
25 ridicule, when I told him it was my father’s intention to leave 
Glasgow almost immediately. 

We spent one hospitable day with the Bailie, and took leave 
of him, as this narrative now does. He continued to grow 
in wealth, honor, and credit, and actually rose to the highest 
30 civic honors in his native city. About two years after the 
period I have mentioned, he tired of his bachelor life, and 
promoted Mattie from her wheel by the kitchen fire to the 
upper end of his table, in the character of Mrs. Jarvie. Bailie 


ROB ROY 


393 


Grahame, the MacVitties, and others (for all men have their 
enemies, especially in the council of a royal burgh), ridiculed 
this transformation. “But,” said Mr. Jarvie, “let them say 
their say. I’ll ne’er fash mysell, nor lose my liking for sae 
feckless a matter as a nine days’ clash. My honest father 5 
the deacon had a byword, 

Brent brow and lily skin, 

A loving heart, and a leal within, 

Is better than gowd or gentle kin. 

Besides,” as he always concluded, “Mattie was nae ordinary 10 
lassock-quean ; she was akin to the Laird o’ Limmerfield.” 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


“Come ye hither my ‘six’ good sons, 

Gallant men I trow ye be, 

How many of you, my children dear, 

Will stand by that good Earl and me?” 

“Five” of them did answer make — 

“Five” of them spoke hastily, 

“0 father, till the day we die 

We’ll stand by that good Earl and thee.” 

The Rising in the North . 0 

On the morning when we were to depart from Glasgow, 
Andrew Fairservice bounced into my apartment like a mad- 
man, jumping up and down, and singing, with more vehemence 
than tune, 

S The kiln’s on fire — the kiln’s on fire — 

The kiln’s on fire — she’s a ’ in a lowe. 

With some difficulty I prevailed on him to cease his con- 
founded clamor, and explain to me what the matter was. He 
was pleased to inform me, as if he had been bringing the 
io finest news imaginable, “that the Hielands were clean broken 
out, every man o’ them, and that Rob Roy, and a’ his breek- 
less bands, wad be down upon Glasgow or twenty-four hours 
o’ the clock gaed round.” 

“Hold your tongue,” said I, “you rascal! You must be 
15 drunk or mad; and if there is any truth in your news, is it 
a singing matter, you scoundrel?” 

394 


ROB ROY 


395 


“Drunk or mad? nae doubt,” replied Andrew, dauntlessly ; 
“ane’s aye drunk or mad if he tells what grit folks dinna like 
to hear — Sing ? Od, the clans will make us sing on the 
wrang side o’ our mouth, if we are sae drunk or mad as to bide 
their coming.” 5 

I rose in great haste, and found my father and Owen also 
on foot, and in considerable alarm. 

Andrew’s news proved but too true in the main. The 
great rebellion which agitated Britain in the year 1715 had 
already broken out, by the unfortunate Earl of Mar’s 0 setting io 
up the standard of the Stuart family in an ill-omened hour, 
to the ruin of many honorable families, both in England and 
Scotland. The treachery of some of the Jacobite agents 
(Rashleigh among the rest), and the arrest of others, had made 
George the First’s Government acquainted with the extensive 15 
ramifications of a conspiracy long prepared, and which at last 
exploded prematurely, and in a part of the kingdom too dis- 
tant to have any vital effect upon the country, which, how- 
ever, was plunged into much confusion. 

This great public event served to confirm and elucidate 20 
the obscure explanations I had received from MacGregor; 
and I could easily see why the westland clans, who were 
brought against him, should have waived their private quarrel, 
in consideration that they were all shortly to be engaged in 
the same public cause. It was a more melancholy reflection 25 
to my mind, that Diana Vernon was the wife of one of those 
who were most active in turning the world upside down, and 
that she was herself exposed to all the privations and perils of 
her husband’s hazardous trade. 

We held an immediate consultation on the measures we were 30 
to adopt in this crisis, and acquiesced in my father’s plan, that 
we should instantly get the necessary passports, and make 
the best of our way to London. I acquainted my father with 


396 


ROB ROY 


my wish to offer my personal service to the Government in 
any volunteer corps, several being already spoken of. He 
readily acquiesced in my proposal ; for though he disliked 
war as a profession, yet, upon principle, no man would have 
5 exposed his life more willingly in defence of civil and religious 
liberty. 

We traveled in haste and in peril through Dumfriesshire 
and the neighboring counties of England. In this quarter, 
gentlemen of the Tory interest were already in motion, 
io mustering men and horses, while the Whigs assembled them- 
selves in the principal towns, armed the inhabitants, and 
prepared for civil war. We narrowly escaped being stopped 
on more occasions than one, and were often compelled to take 
circuitous routes to avoid the points where forces were assem- 
iS bling. 

When we reached London, we immediately associated with 
those bankers and eminent merchants who agreed to support 
the credit of Government, and to meet that run upon the 
funds on which the conspirators had greatly founded their 
20 hopes of furthering their undertaking, by rendering the 
Government, as it were, bankrupt. My father was chosen 
one of the members of this formidable body of the monied 
interest, as all had the greatest confidence in his zeal, skill, 
and activity. He was also the organ by which they com- 
25 municated with Government, and contrived, from funds 
belonging to his own house, or over which he had command, 
to find purchasers for a quantity of the national stock, which 
was suddenly flung into the market at a depreciated price 
when the rebellion broke out. I was not idle myself, but 
30 obtained a commission, and levied, at my father’s expense, 
about two hundred men with whom I joined General Carpen- 
ter’s army. 

The rebellion, in the meantime, had extended itself to 


ROB ROY 


397 


England. The unfortunate Earl of Derwentwater 0 had taken 
arms in the cause, along with General Forster. My poor 
uncle, Sir Hildebrand, whose estate was reduced to almost 
nothing by his own carelessness and the expense and de- 
bauchery of his sons and household, was easily persuaded 5 
to join that unfortunate standard. Before doing so, how- 
ever, he exhibited a degree of precaution of which no one 
could have suspected him — he made his will ! 

By this document he devised his estates at Osbaldistone 
Hall, and so forth, to his sons successively, and their male 10 
heirs, until he came to Rashleigh, whom, on account of the turn 
he had lately taken in politics, he detested with all his might, 

— he cut him off with a shilling, and settled the estate on me as 
his next heir. I had always been rather a favorite of the old 
gentleman ; but it is probable that confident in the number of 1 5 
gigantic youths who now armed around him, he considered 
the destination as likely to remain a dead letter which he 
inserted chiefly to show his displeasure at Rashleigh’s treach- 
ery, both public and domestic. There was an article, by which 
he bequeathed to the niece of his late wife, Diana Vernon, 20 
now Lady Diana Vernon Beauchamp, some diamonds belong- 
ing to her late aunt, and a great silver ewer, having the arms 
of Vernon and Osbaldistone quarterly engraven upon it. 

But Heaven had decreed a more speedy extinction of his 
numerous and healthy lineage, than, most probably, he 25 
himself had reckoned on. In the very first muster of the 
conspirators, at a place called Green-Rigg, Thorncliff 
Osbaldistone quarreled about precedence with a gentleman 
of the Northumbrian border, to the full as fierce and intrac-* 
table as himself. In spite of all remonstrances, they gave 30 
their commander a specimen of how far their discipline 
might be relied upon, by fighting it out with their rapiers, 
and my kinsman was killed on the spot. His death was a 


398 


ROB ROY 


great loss to Sir Hildebrand, for, notwithstanding his infernal 
temper, he had a grain or two of more sense than belonged 
to the rest of the brotherhood, Rashleigh always excepted. 

Perceval, the sot, died also in his calling. He had a wager 
5 with another gentleman (who, from his exploits in that line, 
had acquired the formidable epithet of Brandy Swalewell), 
which should drink the largest cup of strong liquor when 
King James was proclaimed by the insurgents at Morpeth. 0 
The exploit was something enormous. I forget the exact 
io quantity of brandy Percie swallowed, but it occasioned a 
fever, of which he expired at the end of three days, with the 
word, water , water, perpetually on his tongue. 

Dickon broke his neck near Warrington Bridge, 0 in an 
attempt to show off a foundered blood-mare which he wished 
is to palm upon a Manchester merchant who had joined the 
insurgents. He pushed the animal at a five-barred gate; 
she fell in the leap, and the unfortunate jockey lost his life. 

Wilfred, the fool, as sometimes befalls, had the best fortune 
of the family. He was slain at Proud Preston, 0 in Lancashire, 
20 on the day that General Carpenter attacked the barricades, 
fighting with great bravery, though I have heard he was 
never able exactly to comprehend the cause of quarrel, and 
did not uniformly remember on which king’s side he was 
engaged. John also behaved very boldly in the same en- 
2 5 gagement, and received several wounds, of which he was not 
happy enough to die on the spot. 

Old Sir Hildebrand, entirely broken-hearted by these suc- 
cessive losses, became, by the next day’s surrender, one of 
' the unhappy prisoners, and was lodged in Newgate 0 with his 
30 wounded son John. 

I was now released from my military duty, and lost no time, 
therefore, in endeavoring to relieve the distresses of these near 
relations. My father’s interest with Government, and the 


ROB ROY 


399 


general compassion excited by a parent who had sustained 
the successive loss of so many sons within so short a time, 
would have prevented my uncle and cousin from being 
brought to trial for high treason. But their doom was given 
forth from a greater tribunal. John died of his wounds in 5 
Newgate, recommending to me in his last breath, a cast of 
hawks which he had at the Hall, and a black spaniel bitch 
called Lucy. 

My poor uncle seemed beaten down to the very earth by 
his family calamities, and the circumstances in which he 10 
unexpectedly found himself. He said little, but seemed 
grateful for such attentions as circumstances permitted me 
to show him. I did not witness his meeting with my father 
for the first time for so many years, and under circumstances 
so melancholy; but, judging from my father’s extreme de-15 
pression of spirits, it must have been melancholy in the last 
degree. Sir Hildebrand spoke with great bitterness against 
Rashleigh, now his only surviving child; laid upon him the 
ruin of his house, and the deaths of all his brethren, and 
declared, that neither he nor they would have plunged into 20 
political intrigue, but for that very member of his family, 
who had been the first to desert them. He once or twice 
mentioned Diana, always with great affection; and once he 
said, while I sate by his bedside — “Nevoy, since Thorncliff 
and all of them are dead, I am sorry you cannot have her.” 25 

The expression affected me much at the time; for it was 
a usual custom of the poor old baronet’s, when joyously set- 
ting forth upon the morning’s chase, to distinguish Thorncliff, 
who was a favorite, while he summoned the rest more gener- 
ally ; and the loud jolly tone in which he used to hollo, “Call 30 
Thornie — call all of them,” contrasted sadly with the woe- 
begone and self-abandoning note in which he uttered the 
disconsolate words which I have above quoted. He men- 


400 


ROB ROY 


tioned the contents of his will, and supplied me with an 
authenticated copy ; — the original he had deposited with 
my old acquaintance Mr. Justice Inglewood, who, dreaded 
by no one, and confided in by all as a kind of neutral person, 
5 had become, for aught I know, the depositary of half the 
wills of the fighting men of both factions in the county of 
Northumberland. 

The greater part of my uncle’s last hours were spent in the 
discharge of the religious duties of his church, in which he 
io was directed by the chaplain of the Sardinian ambassador, 
for whom, with some difficulty, we obtained permission to 
visit him. I could not ascertain by my own observation, 
or through the medical attendants, that Sir Hildebrand 
Osbaldistone died of any formed complaint bearing a name 
is in the science of medicine. He seemed to me completely 
worn out and broken down by fatigue of body and distress 
of mind, and rather ceased to exist, than died of any positive 
struggle, — just as a vessel, buffeted and tossed by a succes- 
sion of tempestuous gales, her timbers overstrained, and her 
20 joints loosened, will sometimes spring a leak and founder, 
when there are no apparent causes for her destruction. 

It was a remarkable circumstance that my father, after 
the last duties were performed to his brother, appeared sud- 
denly to imbibe a strong anxiety that I should act upon the 
25 will, and represent his father’s house, which had hitherto 
seemed to be the thing in the world which had least charms 
for him. But formerly, he had been like the fox in the fable, 
contemning what was beyond his reach; and, moreover, I 
doubt not that the excessive dislike which he entertained 
30 against Rashleigh (now Sir Rashleigh) Osbaldistone, who 
loudly threatened to attack his father Sir Hildebrand’s will 
and settlement, corroborated my father’s desire to main- 
tain it. 


ROB ROY 


401 


“He had been most unjustly disinherited,” he said, “by 
his own father — his brother’s will had repaired the disgrace, 
if not the injury, by leaving the wreck of his property to 
Frank, the natural heir, and he was determined the bequest 
should take effect.” 5 

In the meantime, Rashleigh was not altogether a con- 
temptible personage as an opponent. The information he 
had given to Government was critically well-timed, and his 
extreme plausibility, with the extent of his intelligence, and 
the artful manner in which he contrived to assume both io 
merit and influence, had, to a certain extent, procured him 
patrons among Ministers. We were already in the full tide 
of litigation with him on the subject of his pillaging the firm 
of Osbaldistone and Tresham ; and, judging from the progress 
we made in that comparatively simple lawsuit, there was a 1 5 
chance that this second course of litigation might be drawn 
out beyond the period of all our natural lives. 

To avert these delays as much as possible, my father, by 
the advice of his counsel learned in the law, paid off and 
vested in my person the rights to certain large mortgages 20 
affecting Osbaldistone Hall. Perhaps, however, the oppor- 
tunity to convert a great share of the large profits which 
accrued from the rapid rise of the funds upon the suppression 
of the rebellion, and the experience he had so lately had of 
the perils of commerce, encouraged him to realize, in this 25 
manner, a considerable part of his property. At any rate, 
it so chanced, that, instead of commanding me to the desk 
as I fully expected, having intimated my willingness to 
comply with his wishes, however they might destine me, 

I received his directions to go down to Osbaldistone Hall, 30 
and take possession of it as the heir and representative of 
the family. I was directed to apply to Squire Inglewood 
for the copy of my uncle’s will deposited with him, and take 
2 D 


402 


ROB ROY 


all necessary measures to secure that possession which sages 
say makes nine points of the law. 

At another time I should have been delighted with this 
change of destination. But now Osbaldistone Hall was 
5 accompanied with many painful recollections. Still, how- 
ever, I thought, that in that neighborhood only I was likely 
to acquire some information respecting the fate of Diana 
Vernon. I had every reason to fear it must be far different 
from what I could have wished it. But I could obtain no 
io precise information on the subject. 

It was in vain that I endeavored, by such acts of kindness 
as their situation admitted, to conciliate the confidence of 
some distant relations who were among the prisoners in 
Newgate. A pride which I could not condemn, and a natural 
15 suspicion of the Whig Frank Osbaldistone, cousin to the 
double-distilled traitor Rashleigh, closed every heart and 
tongue, and I only received thanks, cold and extorted, in 
exchange for such benefits as I had power to offer. The arm 
of the law was also gradually abridging the numbers of those 
20 whom I endeavored to serve, and the hearts of the survivors 
became gradually more contracted toward all whom they 
conceived to be concerned with the existing Government. 
As they were led gradually, and by detachments, to exe- 
cution, those who survived lost interest in mankind, and the 
25 desire of communicating with them. I shall long remember 
what one of them, Ned Shafton by name, replied to my 
anxious inquiry, whether there was any indulgence I could 
procure him? “Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, I must suppose 
you mean me kindly, and therefore I thank you. But 
30 men cannot be fattened like poultry, when they see their 
neighbors carried off day by day to the place of execution, 
and know that their own necks are to be twisted round in 
their turn.” 


ROB ROY 


403 , 


Upon the whole, therefore, I was glad to escape from London, 
from Newgate, and from the scenes which both exhibited, to 
breathe the free air of Northumberland. Andrew Fairservice 
had continued in my service more from my father’s pleasure 
than my own. At present there seemed a prospect that his 5 
local acquaintance with Osbaldistone Hall and its vicinity 
might be useful; and, of course, he accompanied me on my 
journey, and I enjoyed the prospect of getting rid of him, by 
establishing him in his old quarters. I cannot conceive how 
he could prevail upon my father to interest himself in him, 10 
unless it were by the art, which he possessed in no incon- 
siderable degree, of affecting an extreme attachment to his 
master; which theoretical attachment he made compatible 
in practice with playing all manner of tricks without scruple, 
providing only against his master being cheated by any one 15 
but himself. 

We performed our journey to the North without any re- 
markable adventure, and we found the country, so lately 
agitated by rebellion, now peaceful and in good order. The 
nearer we approached to Osbaldistone Hall, the more did my 20 
heart sink at the thought of entering that deserted mansion ; 
so that, in order to postpone the evil day, I resolved first to 
make my visit at Mr. Justice Inglewood’s. 

That venerable person had been much disturbed with 
thoughts of what he had been, and what he now was, and 25 
natural recollections of the past had interfered considerably 
with the active duty which in his present situation might 
have been expected from him. He was fortunate, however, 
in one respect; he had got rid of his clerk Jobson, who had 
finally left him in dudgeon at his inactivity, and become 30 
legal assistant to a certain Squire Standish, who had lately 
commenced operations in those parts as a justice, with a zeal 
for King George and the Protestant succession, which, very 


404 


ROB ROY 


different from the feelings of his old patron, Mr. Jobson had 
more occasion to restrain within the bounds of the law, than 
to stimulate to exertion. 

Old Justice Inglewood received me with great courtesy, 
5 and readily exhibited my uncle’s will, which seemed to be 
without a flaw. He was for some time in obvious distress, 
how he should speak and act in my presence; but when he 
found, that though a supporter of the present Government 
upon principle, I was disposed to think with pity on those 
io who had opposed it on a mistaken feeling of loyalty and duty, 
his discourse became a very diverting medley of what he had 
done, and what he had left undone, — the pains he had taken 
to prevent some squires from joining, and to wink at the 
escape of others, who had been so unlucky as to engage in 
15 the affair. 

We were tete-d-tete, and several bumpers had been quaffed 
by the Justice’s special desire, when, on a sudden, he requested 
me to fill a bona fide brimmer to the health of poor dear Die 
Vernon, the rose of the wilderness, the heath-bell of Cheviot, 
20 and the blossom that’s transplanted to an infernal convent. 

“Is not Miss Vernon married, then?” I exclaimed, in great 
astonishment. “I thought his Excellency” 

“Pooh! pooh! his Excellency and his Lordship’s all a hum- 
bug now, you know — mere St. Germains titles — Earl of 
25 Beauchamp, and ambassador plenipotentiary from France, 
when the Duke Regent of Orleans scarce knew that he 
lived, I dare say. But you must have seen old Sir Frederick 
Vernon at the Hall, when he played the part of Father 
Vaughan?” 

30 “ Good Heavens ! then Vaughan was Miss Vernon’s father ? ” 

“To be sure he was,” said the Justice coolly; — “there’s 
no use in keeping the secret now, for he must be out of the 
country by this time — otherwise, no doubt, it would be my 


ROB ROY 


405 


duty to apprehend him. — Come, off with your bumper to 
my dear lost Die !' 

And let her health 0 go round, around, around, 

And let her health go round ; 

For though your stocking be of silk, 5 

Your knees near kiss the ground, aground, aground/’ 

I was unable, as the reader may easily conceive, to join in 
the Justice’s jollity. My head swam with the shock I had 
received. “I never heard,” I said, “that Miss Vernon’s 
father was living.” IO 

“It was not our Government’s fault that he is,” replied 
Inglewood, “for the devil a man there is whose head would 
have brought more money. He was condemned to death for 
Fenwick’s 0 plot, and was thought to have had some hand in 
the Knightsbridge affair, 0 in King William’s time; and as he 15 
had married in Scotland a relation of the house of Breadal- 
bane, he possessed great influence with all their chiefs. There 
was a talk of his being demanded to be given up at the peace 
of Ryswick, 0 but he shammed ill, and his death was given 
publicly out in the French papers. But when he came back 20 
here on the old score, we old cavaliers knew him well, — that 
is to say, I knew him, not as being a cavalier myself, but no 
information being lodged against the poor gentleman, and 
my memory being shortened by frequent attacks of the gout, 

I could not have sworn to him, you know.” 25 

“Was he, then, not known at Osbaldistone Hall?” I 
inquired. 

“To none but to his daughter, the old knight, and Rash- 
leigh, who had got at that secret as he did at every one else, 
and held it like a twisted cord about poor Die’s neck. I have 30 
seen her one hundred times she would have spit at him, if it 
had not been fear for her father, whose life would not have 


406 


ROB ROY 


been worth five minutes’ purchase if he had been discovered 
to the Government. — But don’t mistake me, Mr. Osbaldi- 
stone ; I say the Government is a good, a gracious, and a just 
Government ; and if it has hanged one-half of the rebels, poor 
5 things, all will acknowledge they would not have been touched 
had they staid peaceably at home.” 

Waiving the discussion of these political questions, I 
brought back Mr. Inglewood to his subject, and I found 
that Diana, having positively refused to marry any of the 
io Osbaldistone family, and expressed her particular detestation 
of Rashleigh, he had from that time begun to cool in zeal 
for the cause of the Pretender 0 ; to which, as the youngest 
of six brethren, and bold, artful, and able, he had hitherto 
looked forward as the means of making his fortune. Probably 
is the compulsion with which he had been forced to render up 
the spoils which he had abstracted from my father’s counting- 
house by the united authority of Sir Frederick Vernon and 
the Scottish chiefs, had determined his resolution to advance 
his progress by changing his opinions and betraying his trust. 
20 Perhaps also — for few men were better judges where his 
interest was concerned — he considered their means and 
talents to be, as they afterward proved, greatly inadequate 
to the important task of overthrowing an established Govern- 
ment. Sir Frederick Vernon, or, as he was called, among 
25 the Jacobites, his Excellency Viscount Beauchamp, had, with 
his daughter, some difficulty in escaping the consequences 
of Rashleigh’s information. Here Mr. Inglewood’s informa- 
tion was at fault ; but he did not doubt, since we had not heard 
of Sir Frederick being in the hands of the Government, he 
30 must be by this time abroad, where, agreeably to the cruel 
bond he had entered into with his brother-in-law, Diana, 
since she had declined to select a husband out of the Osbaldi- 
stone family, must be confined to a convent. The original 


ROB ROY 


407 


cause of this singular agreement Mr. Inglewood could not 
perfectly explain ; but he understood it was a family compact, 
entered into for the purpose of securing to Sir Frederick the 
rents of the remnant of his large estates, which had been 
vested in the Osbaldistone family by some legal manoeuvre ; 5 
in short, a family compact, in which, like many of those under- 
taken at that time of day, the feelings of the principal parties 
interested were no more regarded than if they had been a part 
of the live-stock upon the lands. 

I cannot tell, — such is the waywardness of the human 10 
heart, — whether this intelligence gave me joy or sorrow. 

It seemed to me, that, in the knowledge that Miss Vernon 
was eternally divided from me, not by marriage with another, 
but by seclusion in a convent, in order to fulfil an absurd 
bargain of this kind, my regret for her loss was aggravated 15 
rather than diminished. I became dull, low-spirited, absent, 
and unable to support the task of conversing with Justice 
Inglewood, who in his turn- yawned, and proposed to retire 
early. I took leave of him overnight, determining the next 
day, before breakfast, to ride over to Osbaldistone Hall. 20 

Mr. Inglewood acquiesced in my proposal. “It would 
be well,” he said, “that I made my appearance there before 
I was known to be in the country, the more especially as Sir 
Rashleigh Osbaldistone was now, he understood, at Mr. 
Jobson’s house, hatching some mischief, doubtless. They 25 
were fit company,” he added, “for each other, Sir Rashleigh 
having lost all right to mingle in the society of men of honor ; 
but it was hardly possible two such rascals should collogue 
together without mischief to honest people.” 

He concluded, by earnestly recommending a toast and 30 
tankard, and an attack upon his venison pasty, before I set 
out in the morning, just to break the cold air on the wolds. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


His master’s gone, and no one now 
Dwells in the halls of Ivor ; 

Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead, 

He is the sole survivor. 

Wordsworth . 0 

There are few more melancholy sensations than those with 
which we regard scenes of past pleasure when altered and 
deserted. In my ride to Osbaldistone Hall, I passed the same 
objects which I bad seen in company with Miss Vernon on 
5 the day of our memorable ride from Inglewood Place. Her 
spirit seemed to keep me company on the way; and when 
I approached the spot where I had first seen her, I almost 
listened for the cry of the hounds and the notes of the horn, 
and strained my eye on the vacant space, as if to descry the 
iofair huntress again descend like an apparition from the hill. 
But all was silent, and all was solitary. When I reached the 
Hall, the closed doors and windows, the grass-grown pavement, 
the courts, which were now so silent, presented a strong con- 
trast to the gay and bustling scene I had so often seen them 
15 exhibit, when the merry hunters were going forth to their 
morning sport, or returning to the daily festival. The joyous 
bark of the fox-hounds as they were uncoupled, the cries of 
the huntsmen, the clang of the horse’s hoofs, the loud laugh 
of the old knight at the head of his strong and numerous 
20 descendants, were all silenced now and for ever. 

While I gazed round the scene of solitude and emptiness, 
408 


ROB ROY 


409 


I was inexpressibly affected, even by recollecting those whom, 
when alive, I had no reason to regard with affection. But 
the thought that so many youths of goodly presence, warm 
with life, health, and confidence, were within so short a time 
cold in the grave, by various, yet all violent and unexpected 5 
modes of death, afforded a picture of mortality at which the 
mind trembled. 

While I was engaged in these sad thoughts, my follower 
Andrew, whose feelings were of a very different nature, 
exerted himself in thundering alternately on every door in io 
the building, calling, at the same time, for admittance, in 
a tone so loud as to intimate, that he, at least, was fully 
sensible of his newly acquired importance, as squire of the 
body to the new lord of the manor. At length, timidly and 
reluctantly, Anthony Syddall, my uncle’s aged butler and 15 
major-domo, presented himself at a lower window, well 
fenced with iron bars, and inquired our business. 

“We are come to tak your charge aff your hand, my auld 
friend,” said Andrew Fairservice; “ye may gie up your keys 
as sune as ye like — ilka dog has his day. I’ll tak the plate 20 
and napery aff your hand. Ye hae had your ain time o’t, 
Mr. Syddall ; but ilka bean has its black, and ilka path has 
its puddle; and it will just set you henceforth to sit at the 
board-end, as weel as it did Andrew lang syne.” 

Checking with some difficulty the forwardness of my 25 
follower, I explained to Syddall the nature of my right, and 
the title I had to demand admittance into the Hall, as into 
my own property. The old man seemed much agitated and 
distressed, and testified manifest reluctance to give me en- 
trance, although it was couched in a humble and submissive 30 
tone. I allowed for the agitation of natural feelings, which 
really did the old man honor; but continued peremptory in 
my demand of admittance, explaining to him that his refusal 


410 


ROB ROY 


would oblige me to apply for Mr. Inglewood's warrant, and 
a constable. 

“We are come from Mr. Justice Inglewood’s this morning,” 
said Andrew, to enforce the menace; — “and I saw Archie 
5 Rutledge, the constable, as I came up by ; — the country’s 
not to be lawless as it has been, Mr. Syddall, letting rebels 
and papists gang on as they best listed.” 

The threat of the law sounded dreadful in the old man’s 
ears, conscious as he was of the suspicion under which he 
io himself lay, from his religion and his devotion to Sir Hilde- 
brand and his sons. He undid, with fear and trembling, 
one of the postern entrances, which was secured with many 
a bolt and bar, and humbly hoped that I would excuse 
him for fidelity in the discharge of his duty. — I re- 
15 assured him, and told him I had better opinion of him 
for his caution. 

“Sae have not I,” said Andrew; “Syddall is an auld sneck- 
drawer; he wadna be looking as white as a sheet, and his 
knees knocking thegither, unless it were for something mair 
20 than he’s like to tell us.” 

“Lord forgive you, Mr. Fairservice,” replied the butler, 
“to say such things of an old friend and fellow-servant! 
— Where” — following me humbly along the passage — 
“where would it be your honor’s pleasure to have a fire 
25 lighted? I fear me you will find the house very dull and 
dreary — But perhaps you mean to ride back to Inglewood 
Place to dinner?” 

“Light a fire in the library,” I replied. 

“In the library!” answered the old man; — “nobody has 
30 sat there this many a day, and the room smokes, for the daws 
have built in the chimney this spring, and there were no 
young men about the Hall to pull them down.” 

“Our ain reek’s better than other folk’s fire,” said Andrew. 


ROB ROY 


411 


“His honor likes the library; — he’s nane o’ your Papishers, 
that delight in blinded ignorance, Mr. Syddall.” 

Very reluctantly as it appeared to me, the butler led the 
way to the library, and, contrary to what he had given me 
to expect, the interior of the apartment looked as if it had 5 
been lately arranged, and made more comfortable than usual. 
There was a fire in the grate, which burned clearly, notwith- 
standing what Syddall had reported of the vent. Taking 
up the tongs, as if to arrange the wood, but rather perhaps 
to conceal his own confusion, the butler observed, “it was io 
burning clear now, but had smoked woundily in the morning.” 

Wishing to be alone, till I recovered myself from the first 
painful sensations which everything around me recalled, I 
desired old Syddall to call the land-steward, who lived at 
about a quarter of a mile from the Hall. He departed with 15 
obvious reluctance. I next ordered Andrew to procure the 
attendance of a couple of stout fellows upon whom he could 
rely, the population around being Papists, and Sir Rashleigh, 
who was capable of any desperate enterprise, being in the 
neighborhood. Andrew Fairservice undertook this task 20 
with great cheerfulness, and promised to bring me up from 
Trinlay-Knowe, “twa true-blue Presbyterians like himsell, 
that would face and out-face baith the Pope, the Devil, and 
the Pretender — and blythe will I be o’ their company my- 
sell, for the very last night that I was at Osbaldistone Hall, 25 
the blight be on ilka blossom in my bit yard, if I didna see 
that very picture” (pointing to the full-length portrait of 
Miss Vernon’s grandfather) “walking by moonlight in the 
garden ! I tauld your honor I was fleyed wi’ a bogle that 
night, but ye wadna listen to me — I aye thought there was 30 
witchcraft and deevilry amang the Papishers, but I ne’er 
saw’t wi’ bodily een till that awfu’ night.” 

“Get along, sir,” said I, “and bring the fellows you talk 


412 


ROB ROY 


of ; and see they have more sense than yourself, and are not 
frightened at their own shadow.” 

“I hae been counted as gude a man as my neighbors ere 
now,” said Andrew, petulantly; “but I dinna pretend to deal 
5 wi’ evil spirits.” And so he made his exit, as Wardlaw, the 
land-steward, made his appearance. 

He was a man of sense and honesty, without whose careful 
management my uncle would have found it difficult to have 
maintained himself a housekeeper so long as he did. He 
io examined the nature of my right of possession carefully, and 
admitted it candidly. To any one else the succession would 
have been a poor one, so much was the land encumbered with 
debt and mortgage. Most of these, however, were already 
vested in my father’s person, and he was in a train of acquiring 
15 the rest ; his large gains by the recent rise of the funds having 
made it a matter of ease and convenience for him to pay off 
the debt which affected his patrimony. 

I transacted much necessary business with Mr. Wardlaw, 
and detained him to dine with me. We preferred taking our 
20 repast in the library, although Syddall strongly recommended 
our removing to the stone hall, which he had put in order for 
the occasion. Meantime Andrew made his appearance with 
his true-blue recruits, whom he recommended in the highest 
terms, as “sober decent men, weel founded in doctrinal 
25 points, and, above all, as bold as lions.” I ordered them 
something to drink, and they left the room. I observed old 
Syddall shake his head as they went out, and insisted upon 
knowing the reason. 

“I maybe cannot expect,” he said, “that your honor should 
30 put confidence in what I say, but it is Heaven’s truth for all 
that — Ambrose Wingfield is as honest a man as lives, but 
if there is a false knave in the country, it is his brother Lancie ; 
— the whole country knows him to be a spy for Clerk Jobson 


ROB ROY 


413 


on the poor gentlemen that have been in trouble — But he’s 
dissenter, and I suppose that’s enough, now-a-days.” 

Having thus far given vent to his feelings, — to which, how- 
ever, I was little disposed to pay attention, — and having 
placed the wine on the table, the old butler left the apart- 5 
ment. 

Mr. Wardlaw having remained with me until the evening 
was somewhat advanced, at length bundled up his papers, 
and removed himself to his own habitation, leaving me in 
that confused state of mind in which we can hardly say 10 
whether we desire company or solitude. I had not, however, 
the choice betwixt them ; for I was left alone in the room of 
all others most calculated to inspire me with melancholy 
reflections. 

As twilight was darkening the apartment, Andrew had the 15 
sagacity to advance his head at the door, — not to ask if I 
wished for lights, but to recommend them as a measure 
of precaution against the bogles which still haunted his 
imagination. I rejected his proffer somewhat peevishly, 
trimmed the wood-fire, and placing myself in one of the large 20 
leathern chairs which flanked the old Gothic chimney, I 
watched unconsciously the bickering of the blaze which I had 
fostered. “And this,” said I alone, “is the progress and the 
issue of human wishes! Nursed by the merest trifles, they 
are first kindled by fancy — nay, are fed upon the vapor of 25 
hope, till they consume the substance which they inflame; 
and man, and his hopes, passions, and desires, sink into a 
worthless heap of embers and ashes ! ” 

There was a deep sigh from the opposite side of the room, 
which seemed to reply to my reflections. I started up in 30 
amazement — Diana Vernon stood before me, resting on 
the arm of a figure so strongly resembling that of the portrait 
so often mentioned, that I looked hastily at the frame, expect- 


414 


ROB ROY 


ing to see it empty. My first idea was, either that I had gone 
suddenly distracted, or that the spirits of the dead had arisen 
and been placed before me. A second glance convinced me 
of my being in my senses, and that the forms which stood 
S before me were real and substantial. It was Diana herself, 
though paler and thinner than her former self ; and it was no 
tenant of the grave who stood beside her, but Vaughan, or 
rather Sir Frederick Vernon, in a dress made to imitate that 
of his ancestor, to whose picture his countenance possessed a 
io family resemblance. He was the first that spoke, for Diana 
kept her eyes fast fixed on the ground, and astonishment 
actually riveted my tongue to the roof of my mouth. 

“We are your suppliants, Mr. Osbaldistone,” he said, “and 
we claim the refuge and protection of your roof till we can 
15 pursue a journey where dungeons and death gape for me at 
every step.” 

“Surely,” I articulated with great difficulty — “Miss 
Vernon cannot suppose — you, sir, cannot believe, that I 
have forgot your interference in my difficulties, or that I am 
20 capable of betraying any one, much less you?” 

“I know it,” said Sir Frederick; “yet it is with the most 
inexpressible reluctance that I impose on you a confidence, 
disagreeable perhaps — certainly dangerous — and which 
I would have specially wished to have conferred on some one 
25 else. But my fate, which has chased me through a life of 
perils and escapes, is now pressing me hard, and I have no 
alternative.” 

At this moment the door opened, and the voice of the 
officious Andrew was heard — “A’m bringin’ in the caunles 
30 — Ye can light them gin ye like — Can do is easy carried 
about wi’ ane.” 

I ran to the door, which, as I hoped, I reached in time to 
prevent his observing who were in the apartment. I turned 


. ROB ROY 


415 


him out with hasty violence, shut the door after him, and 
locked it — then instantly remembering his two companions 
below, knowing his talkative humor, and recollecting Syddall’s 
remark, that one of them was supposed to be a spy, I followed 
him as fast as I could to the servant’s hall, in which they were 5 
assembled. Andrew’s tongue was loud as I opened the door, 
but my unexpected appearance silenced him. 

“What is the matter with you, you fool?” said I; “you 
stare and look wild, as if you had seen a ghost.” 

“N — n — no — nothing,” said Andrew ; — “but your 10 
worship was pleased to be hasty.” 

“Because you disturbed me out of a sound sleep, you fool. 
Syddall tells me he cannot find beds for these good fellows 
to-night, and Mr. Wardlaw thinks there will be no occasion 
to detain them. Here is a crown-piece for them to’ drink my 15 
health and thanks for their good-will. You will leave the 
Hall immediately, my good lads.” 

The men thanked me for my bounty, took the silver, and 
withdrew, apparently unsuspicious and contented. I watched 
their departure until I was sure they could have no further 20 
intercourse that night with honest Andrew. And so instantly 
had I followed on his heels, that I thought he could not have 
had time to speak two words with them before I interrupted 
him. But it is wonderful what mischief may be done by only 
two words. On this occasion they cost two lives. 25 

Having made these arrangements, the best which occurred 
to me upon the pressure of the moment, to secure privacy for 
my guests, I returned to report my proceedings, and added, 
that I had desired Syddall to answer every summons, conclud- 
ing that it was by his connivance they had been secreted in 30 
the Hall. Diana raised her eyes to thank me for the caution. 

“You now understand my mystery,” she said; — “you 
know, doubtless, how near and dear that relative is, who has 


416 


ROB ROY 


so often found shelter here; and will be no longer surprised 
that Rashleigh, having such a secret at his command, should 
rule me with a rod of iron.” 

Her father added, “that it was their intention to trouble 
5 me with their presence as short a time as was possible.” 

I entreated the fugitives to waive every consideration but 
what affected their safety, and to rely on my utmost exertions 
to promote it. This led to an explanation of the circumstances 
under which they stood. 

io “I always suspected Rashleigh Osbaldistone,” said Sir 
Frederick; “but his conduct toward my unprotected child, 
which with difficulty I wrung from her, and his treachery in 
your father’s affairs, made me hate and despise him. In our 
last interview I concealed not my sentiments, as I should 
1 5 in prudence have attempted to do ; and in resentment of the 
scorn with which I treated him, he added treachery and 
apostasy to his catalogue of crimes. I at that time fondly 
hoped that his defection would be of little consequence. The 
Earl of Mar had a gallant army in Scotland, and Lord Der- 
20 went water, with Forster, Kenmure, Winterton, and others, 
were assembling forces on the Border. As my connections 
with these English nobility and gentry were extensive, it was 
judged proper that I should accompany a detachment of 
Highlanders, who, under Brigadier Macintosh of Borlum, 
25 crossed the Firth of Forth, traversed the low country of 
Scotland, and united themselves on the Borders with the 
English insurgents. My daughter accompanied me through 
the perils and fatigues of a march so long and difficult.” 

“And she will never leave her dear father!” exclaimed 
30 Miss Vernon, clinging fondly to his arm. 

“I had hardly joined our English friends, when I became 
sensible that our cause was lost. Our numbers diminished 
instead of increasing, nor were we joined by any except of our 


ROB ROY 


417 


own persuasion. The Tories of the High Church remained 
in general undecided, 0 and at length we were cooped up by 
a superior force in the little town of Preston. 0 We defended 
ourselves resolutely for one day. On the next, the hearts of 
our leaders failed, and they resolved to surrender at discretion. 5 
To yield myself up on such terms, were to have laid my head 
on the block. About twenty or thirty gentlemen were of my 
mind : we mounted our horses, and placed my daughter, who 
insisted on sharing my fate, in the centre of our little party. 

My companions, struck with her courage and filial piety, 10 
declared that they would die rather than leave her behind. 

We rode in a body down a street called Fishergate, which leads 
to a marshy ground or meadow, extending to the river Ribble, 
through which one of our party promised to show us a good 
ford. This marsh had not been strongly invested by the 15 . 
enemy, so that we had only an affair with a patrol of Honey- 
wood’s dragoons, whom we dispersed and cut to pieces. We 
crossed the river, gained the high road to Liverpool, and then 
dispersed to seek several places of concealment and safety. 

My fortune led me to Wales, where there are many gentlemen 20 
of my religious and political opinions. I could not, however, 
find a safe opportunity of escaping by sea, and found myself 
obliged again to draw toward the North. A well-tried friend 
has appointed to meet me in this neighborhood, and guide 
me to a seaport on the Solway, 0 where a sloop is prepared to 25 
carry me from my native country for ever. As Osbaldistone 
Hall was for the present uninhabited, and under the charge 
of old Syddall, who had been our confidant on former oc- 
casions, we drew to it as to a place of known and secure 
refuge. I resumed a dress which had been used with good 30 
effect to scare the superstitious rustics, or domestics, who 
chanced at any time to see me ; and we expected from time 
to time to hear by Syddall of the arrival of our friendly guide, 

2e 


418 


ROB ROY 


when your sudden coming hither, and occupying this apart- 
ment, laid us under the necessity of submitting to your 
mercy.” 

Thus ended Sir Frederick’s story, whose tale sounded to 
5 me like one told in a vision ; and I could hardly bring myself 
to believe that I saw his daughter’s form once more before 
me in flesh and blood, though with diminished beauty and 
sunk spirits. The buoyant vivacity with which she had 
resisted every touch of adversity, had now assumed the air 
i oof composed and submissive, but dauntless resolution and 
constancy. Her father, though aware and jealous of the 
effect of her praises on my mind, could not forbear expatiating 
upon them. 

“She has endured trials,” he said, “which might have 
is dignified the history of a martyr ; — she has faced danger and 
death in various shapes ; — she has undergone toil and pri- 
vation, from which men of the strongest frame would have 
shrunk ; — she has spent the day in darkness, and the night 
in vigil, and has never breathed a murmur of weakness or 
20 complaint. In a word, Mr. Osbaldistone,” he concluded, 
“she is a worthy offering to that God, to whom” (crossing 
himself) “I shall dedicate her, as all that is left dear or precious 
to Frederick Vernon.”* 

There was a silence after these words, of which I well under- 
25 stood the mournful import. The father of Diana was still 
as anxious to destroy my hopes of being united to her now as 
he had shown himself during our brief meeting in Scotland. 

“We will now,” said he to his daughter, “intrude no farther 
on Mr. Osbaldistone’ s time, since we have acquainted him 
30 with the circumstances of the miserable guests who claim his 
protection.” 

I requested them to stay, and offered myself to leave the 
apartment. Sir Frederick observed, that my doing so could 


ROB ROY 


419 


not but excite my attendant’s suspicion; and that the place 
of their retreat was in every respect commodious, and fur- 
nished by Syddall with all they could possibly want. “We 
might perhaps have even contrived to remain there, concealed 
from your observation ; but it would have been unjust to 5 
decline the most absolute reliance on your honor.” 

“You have done me but justice,” I replied. — “To you, 
Sir Frederick, I am but little known ; but Miss Vernon, I am 
sure, will bear me witness that” 

“I do not want my daughter’s evidence,” he said, politely, 10 
but yet with an air calculated to prevent my addressing myself 
to Diana, “since I am prepared to believe all that is worthy 
of Mr. Francis Osbaldistone. Permit us now to retire; we 
must take repose when we can, since we are absolutely un- 
certain when we may be called upon to renew our perilous 15 
journey.” 

He drew his daughter’s arm within his, and with a profound 
reverence, disappeared with her behind the tapestry. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


But now the hand of fate is on the curtain, 

And gives the scene to light. 

Don Sebastian . 0 

I felt stunned and chilled as they retired. Imagination, 
dwelling on an absent object of affection, paints her not only 
in the fairest light, but in that in which we most desire to 
behold her. I had thought of Diana as she was, when her 
5 parting tear dropped on my cheek — when her parting token, 
received from the wife of MacGregor, augured her wish to 
convey into exile and conventual seclusion the remembrance 
of my affection. I saw her; and her cold passive manner, 
expressive of little except composed melancholy, disappointed, 
io and, in some degree, almost offended me. In the egotism of 
my feelings, I accused her of indifference — of insensibility. 
I upbraided her father with pride — with cruelty — with 
fanaticism, — forgetting that both were sacrificing their 
interest, and Diana her inclination, to the discharge of what 
15 they regarded as their duty. 

Sir Frederick Vernon was a rigid Catholic, who thought 
the path of salvation too narrow to be trodden by an heretic ; 
and Diana, to whom her father’s safety had been for many 
years the principal and moving spring of thoughts, hopes, 
20 and actions, felt that she had discharged her duty in resigning 
to his will, not alone her property in the world, but the dearest 
affections of her heart. But it was not surprising that I could 
not, at such a moment, fully appreciate these honorable 

420 


ROB ROY 


421 


motives ; yet my spleen sought no ignoble means of discharg- 
ing itself. 

“I am contemned, then,” I said, when left to run over the 
tenor of Sir Frederick’s communications — “I am contemned, 
and thought unworthy even to exchange words with her. Be 5 
it so ; they shall not at least prevent me from watching over 
her safety. Here will I remain as an outpost, and, while 
under my roof at least, no danger shall threaten her, if it be 
such as the arm of one determined man can avert.” 

I summoned Syddall to the library. He came, but came 10 
attended by the eternal Andrew, who, dreaming of great 
things in consequence of my taking possession of the Hall 
and the annexed estates, was resolved to lose nothing for 
want of keeping himself in view; and, as often happens to 
men who entertain selfish objects, overshot his mark, and 15 
rendered his attentions tedious and inconvenient. 

His unrequired presence prevented me from speaking 
freely to Syddall, and I dared not send him away for fear of 
increasing such suspicions as he might entertain from his 
former abrupt dismissal from the library. “I shall sleep 20 
here, sir,” I said, giving them directions to wheel nearer to 
the fire an old-fashioned day-bed, or settee. ‘‘I have much 
to do, and shall go late to bed.” 

Syddall, who seemed to understand my look, offered to 
procure me the accommodation of a mattress and some 25 
bedding. I accepted his offer, dismissed my attendant, 
lighted a pair of candles, and desired that I might not be dis- 
turbed till seven in the ensuing morning. 

The domestics retired, leaving me to my painful and ill- 
arranged reflections, until nature, worn out, should require 30 
some repose. 

I endeavored forcibly to abstract my mind from the singular 
circumstances in which I found myself placed. Feelings 


422 


ROB ROY 


which I had gallantly combated while the exciting object 
was remote, were now exasperated by my immediate neigh- 
borhood to her whom I was so soon to part with for ever. 
Her name was written in every book which I attempted to 
5 peruse ; and her image forced itself on me in whatever train 
of thought I strove to engage myself. It was like the officious 
slave of Prior’s Solomon ,° — 

Abra was ready ere I named her name, 

And when I called another, Abra came. 

io I alternately gave way to these thoughts, and struggled 
against them, sometimes yielding to a mood of melting 
tenderness of sorrow which was scarce natural to me, some- 
times arming myself with the hurt pride of one who had ex- 
perienced what he esteemed unmerited rejection. I paced 
15 the library until I had chafed myself into a temporary fever. 
I then threw myself on the couch, and endeavored to dispose 
myself to sleep ; — but it was in vain that I used every effort 
to compose myself — that I lay without movement of finger 
or of muscle, as still as if I had been already a corpse — that 
20 I endeavored to divert or banish disquieting thoughts, by 
fixing my mind on some act of repetition or arithmetical 
process. 0 My blood throbbed, to my feverish apprehension, 
in pulsations which resembled the deep and regular strokes 
of a distant fulling-mill, and tingled in my veins like streams 
25 of liquid fire. 

At length I arose, opened the window, and stood by it for 
some time in the clear moonlight, receiving, in part at least, 
that refreshment and dissipation of ideas from the clear and 
calm scene, without which they had become beyond the 
30 command of my own volition. I resumed my place on the 
couch — with a heart, Heaven knows, not lighter but firmer, 
and more resolved for endurance. In a short time a slumber 


ROB ROY 


423 


crept over my senses ; still, however, though my senses 
slumbered, my soul was awake to the painful feelings of my 
situation, and my dreams were of mental anguish and external 
objects of terror. 

I remember a strange agony, under which I conceived 5 
myself and Diana in the power of MacGregor’s wife, and 
about to be precipitated from a rock into the lake ; the signal 
was to be the discharge of a cannon, fired by Sir Frederick • 
Vernon, who, in the dress of a Cardinal, officiated at the 
ceremony. Nothing could be more lively than the impression 10 
which I received of this imaginary scene. I could paint, 
even at this moment, the mute and courageous submission 
expressed in Diana’s features — the wild and distorted faces 
of the executioners, who crowded around us with “ mopping 
and mowing grimaces ever changing, and each more hideous 15 
than that which preceded. I saw the rigid and inflexible 
fanaticism painted in the face of the father — I saw him lift 
the fatal match — the deadly signal exploded — It was 
repeated again and again and again, in rival thunders, by the 
echoes of the surrounding cliffs, and I awoke from fancied 20 
horror to real apprehension. 

The sounds in my dream were not ideal. They reverberated 
on my waking ears, but it was two or three minutes ere I could 
collect myself so as distinctly to understand that they por- 
ceeded from a violent knocking at the gate. I leaped from 25 
my couch in great apprehension, took my sword under my 
arm, and hastened to forbid the admission of any one. But 
my route was necessarily circuitous, because the library looked 
not upon the quadrangle, but into the gardens. When I had 
reached the staircase, the windows of which opened upon 30 
the entrance court, I heard the feeble and intimidated tones 
of Syddall expostulating with rough voices, which demanded 
admittance, by the warrant of Justice Standish, and in the 


424 


ROB ROY 


King’s name, and threatened the old domestic with the 
heaviest penal consequences if he refused instant obedience. 
Ere they had ceased, I heard, to my unspeakable provocation, 
the voice of Andrew bidding Syddall stand aside, and let him 
S open the door. 

“If they come in King George’s name, we have naething 
to fear — we hae spent baith bluid and gowd for him — We 
dinna need to darn ourselves like some folks, Mr. Syddall — • 
we are neither Papists nor Jacobites, I trow.” 
io It was in vain I accelerated my pace down stairs; I 
heard bolt after bolt withdrawn by the officious scoundrel, 
while all the time he was boasting his own and his master’s 
loyalty to King George ; and I could easily calculate that the 
party must enter before I could arrive at the door to replace 
15 the bars. Devoting the back of Andrew Fairservice to the 
cudgel so soon as I should have time to pay him his deserts, 
I ran back to the library, barricaded the door as I best could, 
and hastened to that by which Diana and her father entered, 
and begged for instant admittance. Diana herself undid the 
20 door. She was ready dressed, and betrayed neither pertur- 
bation nor fear. 

“Danger is so familiar to us,” she said, “that we are always 
prepared to meet it. My father is already up — he is in 
Rashleigh’s apartment. We will escape into the garden, 
25 and thence by the postern-gate (I have the key from Syddall 
in case of need) into the wood — I know its dingles better 
than any one now alive. Keep them a few minutes in play. 
And, dear, dear Frank, once more fare-thee-well ! ” 

She vanished like a meteor to join her father, and the in- 
30 truders were rapping violently, and attempting to force the 
library door by the time I had returned into it. 

“You robber dogs!” I exclaimed, wilfully mistaking 
the purpose of their disturbance, “if you do not instantly 


ROB ROY 


425 


quit the house I will fire my blunderbuss through the 
door.” 

“Fire a fule’s bauble!” said Andrew Fairservice; “it’s 
Mr. Clerk Jobson, with a legal warrant” 

“To search for, take, and apprehend,” said the voice of 5 
that execrable pettifogger, “the bodies of certain persons in 
my warrant named, charged of high treason under the 13 th 
of King William, Chapter third.” 

And the violence on the door was renewed. “I am rising, 
gentlemen,” said I, desirous to gain as much time as possible 10 
— “commit no violence — give me leave to look at your 
warrant, and, if it is formal and legal, I shall not oppose it.” 

“God save great George our King!” ejaculated Andrew. 

“I tauld ye that ye would find nae Jacobites here.” 

Spinning out the time as much as possible, I was at length 1 5 
compelled to open the door, which they would otherwise 
have forced. 

Mr. Jobson entered, with several assistants, among whom 
I discovered the younger Wingfield, to whom, doubtless, he 
was obliged for his information, and exhibited his warrant, 20 
directed not only against Frederick Vernon, an attainted 
traitor, but also against Diana Vernon, spinster, and Francis 
Osbaldistone, gentleman, accused of misprision of treason. 

It was a case in which resistance would have been madness ; 

I therefore, after capitulating for a few minutes’ delay, sur- 25 
rendered myself a prisoner. 

I had next the mortification to see Jobson go straight to the 
chamber of Miss Vernon, and I learned that from thence, 
without hesitation or difficulty, he went to the room where 
Sir Frederick had slept. “The hare has stolen away,” said 30 
the brute, “but her form is warm — the greyhounds will 
have her by the haunches yet.” 

A scream from the garden announced that he prophesied 


426 


ROB ROY 


too truly. In the course of five minutes, Rashleigh entered 
the library with Sir Frederick Vernon and his daughter as 
prisoners. “The fox,” he said, “knew his old earth, but he 
forgot it could be stopped by a careful huntsman. — I had 
5 not forgot the garden-gate, Sir Frederick — or, if that title 
suits you better, most noble Lord Beauchamp.” 

“Rashleigh,” said Sir Frederick, “thou art a detestable 
villain ! ” 

“I better deserved the name, Sir Knight, or my Lord, when, 
io under the direction of an able tutor, I sought to introduce 
civil war into the bosom of a peaceful country. But I have 
done my best,” said he, looking upward, “to atone for my 
errors.” 

I could hold no longer- I had designed to watch their 
is proceedings in silence, but I felt that I must speak or die. 
“If hell,” I said, “has one complexion more hideous than 
another, it is where villainy is masked by hypocrisy.” 

“Ha! my gentle cousin,” said Rashleigh, holding a candle 
toward me, and surveying me from head to foot; “right 
20 welcome to Osbaldistone Hall ! — I can forgive your spleen 
— It is hard to lose an estate and a mistress in one night ; 
for we shall take possession of this poor manor-house in the 
name of the lawful heir, Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone.” 

While Rashleigh braved it out in this manner, I could see 
25 that he put a strong force upon his feelings, both of anger 
and shame. But his state of mind was more obvious when 
Diana Vernon addressed him. “Rashleigh,” she said, “I 
pity you — for, deep as the evil is which you have labored 
to do me, and the evil you have actually done, I cannot hate 
30 you so much as I scorn and pity you. What you have now 
done may be the work of an hour, but will furnish you with 
reflection for your life — of what nature I leave to your own 
conscience, which will not slumber for 6ver.” 


ROB ROY 


427 


Rashleigh strode once or twice through the room, came up 
to the side-table, on which wine was still standing, and 
poured out a large glass with a trembling hand; but when 
he saw that we observed his tremor, he suppressed it by a 
strong effort, and, looking at us with fixed and daring com- 5 
posure, carried the bumper to his head without spilling a 
drop. “It is my father’s old burgundy,” he said, looking to 
Jobson; “I am glad there is some of it left. — You will get 
proper persons to take care of the house and property in my 
name, and turn out the doating old butler, and that foolish 10 
Scotch rascal. Meanwhile we will convey these persons to 
a more proper place of custody. I have provided the old 
family coach for your convenience,” he said, “though I am 
not ignorant that even the lady could brave the night air 
on foot or on horseback, were the errand more to her mind.” 15 
Andrew wrung his hands. — “I only said that my master 
was surely speaking to a ghaist in the library — and the 
villain Lancie to betray an auld friend, that sang aff 
the same Psalm-book wi’ him every Sabbath for twenty 
years ! ” 20 

He was turned out of the house, together with Syddall, 
without being allowed to conclude his lamentation. His 
expulsion, however, led to some singular consequences. 
Resolving, according to his own story, to go down for the 
night where Mother Simpson would give him a lodging for 25 
old acquaintance’ sake, he had just got clear of the avenue, 
and into the oldwood, as it was called, though it was now 
used as a pasture ground rather than woodland, when he 
suddenly alighted on a drove of Scotch cattle, which were 
lying there to repose themselves after the day’s journey. At 30 
this Andrew was in no way surprised, it being the well-known 
custom of his countrymen, who take care of those droves, 
to quarter themselves after night upon the best unenclosed 


428 


ROB ROY 


grass-ground they can find, and depart before daybreak to 
escape paying for their night’s lodgings. But he was both 
surprised and startled, when a Highlander, springing up, 
accused him of disturbing the cattle and refused him to pass 
5 forward till he had spoken to his master. The mountaineer 
conducted Andrew into a thicket, where he found three or 
four more of his countrymen. “And,” said Andrew, “I saw 
sune they were ower mony men for the drove ; and from the 
questions they put to me, I judged they had other tow on 
io their rock.” 

They questioned him closely about all that had passed at 
Osbaldistone Hall, and seemed surprised and concerned at 
the report he made to them. 

“And troth,” said Andrew, “I tauld them a’ I ken’d; for 
15 dirks and pistols were what I could never refuse information 
to in a’ my life.” 

They talked in whispers among themselves, and at length 
collected their cattle together, and drove them close up to 
the entrance of the avenue, which might be half a mile distant 
20 from the house. They proceeded to drag together some felled 
trees which lay in the vicinity, so as to make a temporary 
barricade across the road, about fifteen yards beyond the 
avenue. It was now near daybreak, and there was a pale 
* eastern gleam mingled with the fading moonlight, so that 
25 objects could be discovered with some distinctness. The 
lumbering sound of a coach drawn by four horses, and escorted 
by six men on horseback, was heard coming up the avenue. 
The Highlanders listened attentively. The carriage con- 
tained Mr. Jobson and his unfortunate prisoners. The escort 
30 consisted of Rashleigh, and of several horsemen, peace- 
officers, and their assistants. So soon as we had passed the 
gate at the head of the avenue, it was shut behind the caval- 
cade by a Highlandman, stationed there for that purpose. 


ROB ROY 


429 


At the same tirtie the carriage was impeded in its farther 
progress by the cattle, amongst which we were involved, and 
by the barricade in front. Two of the escort dismounted to 
remove the felled trees, which they might think were left 
there by accident or carelessness. The others began with 5 
their whips to drive the cattle from the road. 

“Who dare abuse our cattle?” said a rough voice. — 
“Shoot him, Angus!” 

Rashleigh instantly called out — “A rescue! a rescue!” 
and, firing a pistol, wounded the man who spoke? 10 

“Claymore!” cried the leader of the Highlanders, and a 
scuffle instantly commenced. The officers of the law, sur- 
prised at so sudden an attack, and not usually possessing the 
most desperate bravery, made but an imperfect defence, con- 
sidering the superiority of their numbers. Some attempted 15 
to ride back to the Hall, but on a pistol being fired from 
behind the gate, they conceived themselves surrounded, and 
at length galloped off in different directions. Rashleigh, 
meanwhile, had dismounted, and on foot had maintained a 
desperate and single-handed conflict with the leader of the 20 
band. The window of the carriage, on my side, permitted 
me to witness it. At length Rashleigh dropped. 

“Will you ask forgiveness for the sake of God, King James, 
and auld friendship?” said a voice which I knew right well. * 
“No, never!” said Rashleigh, firmly. 25 

“Then, traitor, die in your treason!” retorted MacGregor, 
and plunged his sword in his prostrate antagonist. 

In the next moment he was at the carriage door — handed 
out Miss Vernon, assisted her father and me to alight, and 
dragging out the attorney, head foremost, threw him under 30 
the wheel. 

“Mr. Osbaldistone,” he said in a whisper, “you have 
nothing to fear — I must look after those who have — Your 


430 


ROB ROY 


friends will soon be in safety — Farewell, arid forget not the 
MacGregor.” 

He whistled — his band gathered round him, and, hurrying 
Diana and her father along with him, they were almost 
5 instantly lost in the glades of the forest. The coachman 
and postilion had abandoned their horses, and fled at the 
first discharge of firearms; but the animals, stopped by the 
barricade, remained perfectly still; and well for Jobson that 
they did so, for the slightest motion would have dragged the 
io wheel over his body. My first object was to relieve him, for 
such was the rascal’s terror that he never could have risen 
by his own exertions. I next commanded him to observe, 
that I had neither taken part in the rescue, nor availed my- 
self of it to make my escape, and enjoined him to go down 
15 to the Hall, and call some of his party, who had been left 
there, to assist the wounded. — But Jobson’s fears had so 
mastered and controlled every faculty of his mind, that he 
was totally incapable of moving. I now resolved to go 
myself, but in my way I stumbled over the body of a man, 
20 as I thought, dead or dying. It was, however, Andrew Fair- 
service, as well and whole as ever he was in his life, who had 
only taken this recumbent posture to avoid the slashes, stabs, 
and pistol-balls, which for a moment or two were flying in 
Various directions. I was so glad to find him, that I did not 
25 inquire how he came thither, but instantly commanded his 
assistance. 

Rashleigh was our first object. He groaned when I ap- 
proached him, as much through spite as through pain, and 
shut his eyes, as if determined, like Iago,° to speak no word 
30 more. We lifted him into the carriage, and performed the 
same good office to another wounded man of his party, who 
had been left on the field. I then with difficulty made Jobson 
understand that he must enter the coach also, and support 


ROB ROY 


431 


Sir Rashleigh upon the seat. He obeyed, but with an air 
as if he but half comprehended my meaning. Andrew and 
I turned the horses’ heads round, and opening the gate of the 
avenue, led them slowly back to Osbaldistone Hall. 

Some fugitives had already reached the Hall by circuitous 5 
routes, and alarmed its garrison by the news that Sir Rash- 
leigh, Clerk Jobson, and all their escort, save they who 
escaped to tell the tale, had been cut to pieces at the head 
of the avenue by a whole regiment of wild Highlanders. 
When we reached the mansion, therefore, we heard such a 10 
buzz as arises when bees are alarmed, and mustering in their 
hives. Mr. Jobson, however, who had now in some measure 
come to his senses, found voice enough to make himself 
known. He was the more anxious to be released from the 
carriage, as one of his companions (the peace-officer) had, to 15 
his inexpressible terror, expired by his side with a hideous 
groan. 

Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone was still alive, but so dreadfully 
wounded that the bottom of the coach was filled with his 
blood, and long traces of it left from the entrance-door into 20 
the stone-hall, where he was placed in a chair, some attempt- 
ing to stop the bleeding with cloths, while others called for 
a surgeon, and no one seemed willing to go to fetch one. 
“Torment me not,” said the wounded man — “I know no 
assistance can avail me — I am a dying man.” He raised 25 
himself in his chair, though the damps and chill of death were 
already on his brow, and spoke with a firmness which seemed 
beyond his strength. “Cousin Francis,” he said, “draw near 
to me.” I approached him as he requested. — “I wish you 
only to know that the pangs of death do not alter one iota 30 
of my feelings toward you. I hate you ! ” he said, the expres- 
sion of rage throwing a hideous glare into the eyes which were 
soon to be closed for ever. — “I hate you with a hatred as 


432 


ROB ROY 


intense, now while I lie bleeding and dying before you, as if 
my foot trode on your neck.” 

“I have given you no cause, sir,” I replied, — “and for 
your own sake I could wish your mind in a better temper.” 

5 “You have given me cause,” he rejoined. “In love, in 
ambition, in the paths of interest, you have crossed and 
blighted me at every turn. I was born to be the honor of 
my father’s house — I have been its disgrace — - and all 
owing to you. My very patrimony has become yours — Take 
i o it,” he said, “and may the curse of a dying man cleave to it ! ” 

In a moment after he had uttered this frightful wish, he 
fell back in the chair; his eyes became glazed, his limbs 
stiffened, but the grin and glare of mortal hatred survived 
even the last gasp of life. I will dwell no longer on so painful 
15 a picture, nor say any more of the death of Rashleigh, than 
that it gave me access to my rights of inheritance without 
farther challenge, and that Jobson found himself compelled 
to allow, that the ridiculous charge of misprision of high 
treason was got up on an affidavit which he made with the 
20 sole purpose of favoring Rashleigh’ s views, and removing me 
from Osbaldistone Hall. The rascal’s name was struck off 
the list of attorneys, and he was reduced to. poverty and 
contempt. 

I returned to London when I had put my affairs in order 
25 at Osbaldistone Hall, and felt happy to escape a place which 
suggested so many painful recollections. My anxiety was 
now acute to learn the fate of Diana and her father. A French 
gentleman who came to London on commercial business, was 
intrusted with a letter to me from Miss Vernon, which put 
30 my mind at rest respecting her safety. 

It gave me to understand that the opportune appearance 
of MacGregor and his party was not fortuitous. The Scottish 
nobles and gentry engaged in the insurrection, as well as those 


ROB ROY 


433 


of England, were particularly anxious to further the escape 
of Sir Frederick Vernon, who, as an old and trusted agent of 
the house of Stuart, was possessed of matter enough to have 
ruined half Scotland. Rob Roy, of whose sagacity and 
courage they had known so many proofs, was the person 5 
whom they pitched upon to assist his escape, and the place 
of meeting was fixed at Osbaldistone Hall. You have already 
heard how nearly the plan had been disconcerted by the 
unhappy Rashleigh. It succeeded, however, perfectly; for 
when once Sir Frederick and his daughter were again at large, 10 
they found horses prepared for them, and, by MacGregor’s 
knowledge of the country — for every part of Scotland, and 
of the north of England, was familiar to him — were con- 
ducted to the western seacoast, and safely embarked for 
France. The same gentleman told me that Sir Frederick 15 
was not expected to survive for many months a lingering 
disease, the consequence of late hardships and privations. 
His daughter was placed in a convent, and although it was 
her father’s wish she should take the veil, he was understood 
to refer the matter entirely to her own inclinations. 20 

When these news reached me, I frankly told the state of 
my affections to my father, who was not a little startled at 
the idea of my marrying a Roman Catholic. But he was 
very desirous to see me “ settled in life,” as he called it ; and 
he was sensible that, in joining with heart and hand in his 25 
commercial labors, I had sacrificed my own inclinations. 
After a brief hesitation, and several questions asked and 
answered to his satisfaction, he broke out with — “I little 
thought a son of mine should have been Lord of Osbaldistone 
Manor, and far less that he should go to a French convent for 30 
a spouse. But so dutiful a daughter cannot but prove a good 
wife. You have worked at the desk to please me, Frank; 
it is but fair you should wive to please yourself.” 

2f 


434 


ROB ROY 


How I sped 0 in ray wooing, Will Tresham, I need not tell 
you. You know, too, how long and happily I lived with 
Diana. You know how I lamented her ; but you do not — 
cannot know, how much she deserved her husband’s sorrow". 

5 I have no more of romantic adventure to tell, nor, indeed, 
anything to communicate farther, since the latter incidents 
of my life are so well known to one who has shared, with the 
most friendly sympathy, the joys, as well as the sorrows, 
by which its scenes have been chequered. I often visited 
io Scotland, but never again saw' the bold Highlander who 
had an influence on the early events of my life. I learned, 
however, from time to time, that he continued to maintain 
his ground among the mountains of Loch Lomond, in despite 
of his powerful enemies, and that he even obtained, to a 
15 certain degree, the connivance of Government to his self- 
elected office of protector of the Lennox, in virtue of which 
he levied black-mail with as much regularity as the proprie- 
tors did their ordinary rents. It seemed impossible that his 
life should have concluded without a violent end. Neverthe- 
20 less he died in old age and by a peaceful death, some time 
about the year 1733, and is still remembered in his country 
as the Robin Hood of Scotland — the dread of the wealthy, 
but the friend of the poor — and possessed of many qualities, 
both of head and heart, which would have graced a less 
25 equivocal profession than that to which his fate condemned 
him. 

Old Andrew Fairservice used to say that “There were many 
things ower bad for blessing, and ower gude for banning, 
like Rob Roy. v 




NOTES 


1: Motto. Monsieur Thomas: a play by Fletcher (1619). 

6 : Motto. Ben Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair ; written in 1614. 

6:31. Edward the Black Prince: Edward, son of Ed- 
ward III, who led the most gallant division of the king’s army 
at Crecy in 1338, and who captured the French king, John II, 
at Poitiers in 1365. 

7 : 6. poets : Dryden, Wycherley, and Congreve. 

7 : 13. Fontarabian : Fontarabia (Feunterrabia) was a 
Spanish town at the western end of the Pyrenees, where 
a portion of Charlemagne’s army was defeated, and the 
famous warrior, Roland, fell by the sword of the paynim 
(heathen) Saracens of Spain. See Marmion, Canto VI, 
Stanza 33. A Fontarabian Fair was, literally, a marriage 
market. 

8:5. Garonne : the river of Bordeaux. 

8 :6. Blay : a town on the Gironde, below Bordeaux. 

8 : 23. bellman : A bellman of Glasgow, D. Graham, wrote 
a versified history of the Jacobite uprising of 1745, the eighth 
edition of which appeared in 1808. 

9 : 17. Jacobites : adherents to James II. See Introduc- 
tion, pages xxiv ff. 

9 : 20. Lily : William Lily, a famous English grammarian, 
who died in 1522. 

10 : 3. Osbaldistone Hall : Frank’s grandfather had dis- 
inherited the older son, William, and settled the estate on 
the younger, Hildebrand. ^ 

11 : 5. Orlando Furioso : See note to Ariosto, 141 : 4. 

11 : 9. Spenserian stanza : See note to Ladies and knights, 
150 : 13. 


437 


438 


NOTES 


11 : 21. Twineall : a clerk of the house. 

12 : 2. Ripon spurs : The spurs and spur-rowels made at 
Ripon were famous. 

14:1. York: See Map 1. 

14 : 2. fifty guineas : about $250. 

15: Motto. Gay’s Fables: 1727-1738. 

15 : 4. Highgate : a northern hilly suburb of London. 

16: 2. Beggars’ Opera: a play by Gay (1721). 

16 : 27. Grantham : about one hundred miles north of 
London. 

18 : 14. Bucephalus : the horse of Alexander the Great. 

18 : 24. four stone : sbd^-four pounds. 

19 : 5. croupe : portion of a horse’s back behind the saddle. 

20 \Motto. Churchill: Charles Churchill (1731-1764). 
These lines are quoted from his Prophecy of Famine (1763). 
Also quoted in Chapter XXVII. 

20:12. Darlington: See Map 1. The Black Bear, the 
Garter, and the Lion were taverns whose signs were pictures 
illustrating their names. 

20 : 22. Berwick Bridge : at Berwick-on-Tweed, between 
England and Scotland. 

21 : 13. gaugers : “ The introduction of gaugers, super- 

visors, and examiners was one of the great complaints of the 
Scottish nation, though a natural consequence of the Union.” 
— Scott’s Note. 

22:1. Northumberland: the northernmost county of 
England. See Map 1. 

22 : 8. Change : Change Alley, formerly Exchange Alley, 
led off Lombard Street, a financial center in Cornhill, London. 
At Jonathan’s Coffee-House in this alley the Stock Exchange 
was held, and the alley was the scene of much of the action in 
the South Sea Bubble of 1720. 

22 : 10. William the Conqueror : king of England from 1066 
to 1087. 

22 : 17. Mabel Rickets : See Introduction, page x, and 
Crocket, The Scott Originals, page 375. 

23 : 4. Mus. D. : Doctor of Music. 


NOTES 


439 


23 : 13. Black Douglas : Probably Scott refers to William 
of Nithsdale, who died in 1390 ; for in Tales of a Grandfather, 
XI, Scott calls William “ tall, strong, and well-made, of a 
swarthy complexion, with dark hair, from which he was 
called the Black Douglas.” The appellation, however, was 
also applied to Sir James, the valiant supporter of Robert 
Bruce, and to Earl Archibald, who appears in Scott’s novel 
The Fair Maid of Perth. 

23 : 17. Wat the Devil : a Northumbrian freebooter. 

23 : 23. Achilles : W hen Achilles rebuked Agamemnon for 
not giving Chryseis to her father, who offered a ransom for 
her, Agamemnon turned upon him and said that he would 
let Chryseis go, but should take Briseis instead. See the 
Iliad, I. One of Rob Roy’s sons took a wife in much the 
same way. See Introduction, page xxxix. 

24:31. Duke of Orleans: Philippe, who became regent to 
Louis XIV of France September 1, 1715. He appears in 
Quentin Durward. 

25 : 22. Mr. Quitam : the lawyer at the Black Bear Inn. 
Dr. Mixit and Latherum were the apothecary and the barber 
respectively. 

26 : 10. Whitson-Tryste : a fair held at Whitsuntide in 
northern Northumberland. 

27 : 9. Rothbury : See Map 1. 

29 '.Motto. The Chase: by William Somerville (1692-1742). 
The Chase was published in 1735. 

29 : 3. Cheviots : hills between England and Scotland. 

29:11. Osbaldistone Hall: The original of Osbaldistone 
Hall is probably Chillingham Castle, six miles from Belford. 
See Map 1. Other reputed originals are Biddleston, twenty 
miles southwest of Belford, and Naworth Castle, six miles 
from Gilsland. Horton Castle, three miles from Chilling- 
ham, is thought to be the Inglewood Place of the novel. 
See Hunnewell, Lands of Scott. 

29 : 12. Druidical : pertaining to the religion of ancient 
Britain. The description of the chase and the vision of 
Di Vernon may well be compared with the chase and King 


440 


NOTES 


James’s discovery of Ellen in The Lady of the Lake , Canto I, 
Stanza xvii. 

32 : 33. Markham : Gervase Markham, who published a 
book on farriery in 1662. 

33 : 5. Alcoran : the Koran, sacred book of the Moham- 
medans. 

33 : 9. Gibson : William Gibson, author of The Farrier's 
New Guide (1720). Bartlett: J. Bartlett, author of The 
Gentleman’s Farriery (1754). 

33: 13. ball: a ball-shaped physic, concealed in the food 
or drink, mash : a mixture of meal and water, horn : 
a drench was often given an animal in a horn ; still used in 
Scotland for that purpose by farriers. 

33 : 17. worm : to expel worms by means of physic. 

33 : 19. casting-stones : indigestible food given to a hawk 
to cleanse his throat by vomiting. 

36 : 14. Orsons : In the old French romance Orson and 
Valentine , the twin heroes were suckled by a bear and be- 
came the terror of France. 

36 : 18. King Willie : See Introduction, pages xxiv, xxv. 

36:28. Louis XIV: king of France from 1643 to 1715. 

See Introduction, pages xxv, .xxvi. 

37 : 12. Chevy Chace : Chase in the Cheviots. This is the 
popular name for the battle of Otterburn (see Map 1), in 
1388, when Harry Percy, son of the Earl of Northumberland, 
and called Hotspur from his fiery temper, was captured by 
James, Earl of Douglas, who nevertheless lost his life. See 
Scott’s note to The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto II, line 
109. See also note to Shrewsbury, 92 : 16. Of the sev- 
eral ballads on the subject, the Scotch ballad, The Battle of 
Otterburn, is the most accurate; but the English version, 
Chevy Chase , is the one praised by Addison in The Spectator, 
Nos. 70 and 74. Read Edward Everett Hale’s New Eng- 
land’s Chevy Chace. 

39 : Motto. Penrose : Thomas Penrose (1742-1779) . The 
quotation is from The Carousal of Odin. As is usual with 
Scott, it is quoted from memory and quite inaccurately. 


NOTES 


441 


40:5. Hounslow Heath : a few miles west of London, 
where James II established a camp to overawe the city in 
1686. Cf. Introduction, page xxiv. 

40 : 17. Stonehenge : a celebrated stone circle, on Salis- 
bury Plain in southern England, probably dating from the 
Bronze Age. These are plain blocks which Scott contrasts 
with the richly carved Corinthian pillars of the temples. 

40:21. Promethean fire: the celestial fire which Pro- 
metheus, the Greek legendary founder of civilization, stole 
for men. 

40 : 27. Gyas : Gyas and Cloanthus, followers of ^Eneas, 
figure in the boat-race in the JEneid, V. 

41 : 11. Anak: the giant mentioned in Numbers xiii, 33. 

44:21. fadeurs: insipid compliments. 

45 : 28. Sancho : Sancho Panza, the squire in Cervantes’ 
Don Quixote (1603), noted for his shrewdness and common 
sense. 

46 : 29. cour pleniere: a full gathering of vassals. 

48 : 17. Bacchus : god of wine and revelry. 

49:11. jeistiecor: probably justaucorps, a close-fitting 
jacket. 

49: 28. Hartepool and Sunderland: See Map 1. 

50: 11. Ephesus: See 1 Corinthians xv, 32. 

53 : 9. novel : Belisaire (1767), by Jean Francis Mar- 
montil (1723-1799), author of Moral Tales , one of which is 
Belisaire. Belisarius was a general in Justinian’s army who 
lost his position and retired to humble toil. 

54 : 4. hunting horn : Compare this chapter with The 
Coverley Hunt in Addison’s The Spectator 'No. 116. 

54 : 11. Nimrod : See Genesis x, 8. 

55 : 18. earths : holes of burrowing animals. 

57 : 25. Pedro Garcias : the licentiate in Lesage’s Gil Bias 
(1715), who buried his soul with his ducats. 

58 : 25. Hanoverian : See Introduction, pages xxiv, xxvi. 

69 : 9. suspected person : On occasions of public alarm, 
in the beginning of the eighteenth century, the horses of 
the Catholics were often seized upon, as they were always 


442 


NOTES 


supposed to be on the eve of rising in rebellion. — • Scott's 
Note. 

62 \ Motto. Butler: from Hudibras (1663-1678). 

66:1. Philistines: sordid, materialistic, like the Philis- 
tines who disputed southwestern Canaan with the Israelites. 

66:21. canet: he sings. 

68 : 12. contra pacem, etc. : against the peace of the reign- 
ing king. 

68 :21. custos rotulorum: guardian of the rolls, a justice 
who keeps the record. 

68 : 22. Sir Edward Coke : a noted English jurist, remem- 
bered for his brutal language as prosecutor of Sir Walter 
Raleigh in 1603. 

69 : 10. Johnson : Captain Charles Johnson, who published 
Lives of the Highwaymen, in Birmingham, in 1742. 

69 : 17. Themis or Comus : The former, wife of Zeus, 
personified law and order; the latter was god of revelry, 
as in Milton’s Comus. 

70 : 23. Dalton : Michael Dalton, author of The Country 
Justice (1742). 

72 : 33. 3d of King Edward : in 1275, when the power of 
bailing in treason was taken away. 

73 : 14. sotto-voce : in a soft voice. 

lb '.Motto. The Widow: a comedy, probably by Middle- 
ton in collaboration with Ben Jonson and others. Probably 
acted in 1616 ; printed in 1652. 

76: 7. Northallerton: the scene of the battle of the stand- 
ard, in 1138, in which the English barons defeated the Scottish 
invaders. See Map 1. 

78 : 23. Argyle : John Campbell, second duke of Argyle, 
Rob Roy’s patron. As a statesman he did much to effect the 
union of .Scotland and England in 1707, and as a general he 
distinguished himself under Marlborough in Spain; but on 
the change of the ministry in 1710, he became a Tory and 
opposed Marlborough, being rewarded with the office of 
generalissimo of the British forces in Spain. In 1715 he was 
again a Whig, in charge of the king’s forces in Scotland, where 


NOTES 


443 


he quelled the Jacobite uprising, opposing successfully a 
superior force of Jacobites under the Earl of Mar. See 
Introduction, page xxxii. The duke was kind in private life, 
but shifty in politics. Scott has a flattering picture of him 
in The Heart of Midlothian ; Thomson in Autumn called 
him Scotland’s “ darling,” and Pope wrote : 

Argyle, the state’s whole thunder born to wield, 

And shake alike the senate and the field. 

Invera — Inverary — has for several centuries been the 
ancestral home of the Argyles. In 1701 John’s father was 
made Lord Inverary, Earl of Cowal, Marquis of Lome, etc. 

78: 26. MacCallum More: John, Duke of Argyle (above). 
“ Besides the ordinary name and surname,” says Scott, 
“ every Highland chief had an epithet expressive of his 
patriarchal dignity as head of the clan, ... as Pharaoh to 
the kings of Egypt. This name was usually a patronymic, 
expressive of his descent from the founder of the family.” 
Hence MacCallum More, or son of Colin the Great. Mac- 
Callum More was in reality an ancestor of John. 

81 : 27. dog-Latin : mongrel, barbarous Latin. 

82 : 14. The Indian leaf, etc. : The lines are probably an 
adaptation from a popular Scotch poem entitled Smoking 
Spiritualized, by the celebrated Ralph Erskine. 

84 : 18. Abbess of Wilton : The nunnery of Wilton was 
granted to the Earl of Pembroke upon its dissolution, by the 
magisterial authority of Henry VIII, or his son Edward VI. 
On the accession of Queen Mary, of Catholic memory, the 
Earl found it necessary to reinstall the Abbess and her fair 
recluses, which he did with many expressions of his remorse, 
kneeling humbly to the vestals, and inducting them into the 
convent and possessions from which he had expelled them. 
With the accession of Elizabeth, the accommodating Earl 
again resumed his Protestant faith, and a second time drove 
the nuns from their sanctuary. The remonstrances of the 
Abbess, who reminded him of his penitent expressions on the 
former occasion, could wring from him no other answer than 


444 


NOTES 


that in the text — “ Go spin, you jade, — Go spin.” — 
Scott’s Note. 

92 16. Shrewsbury : forty-two miles west of Birmingham ; 
the scene of Henry IV ’s victory over the insurgent Percy, in 
which engagement Henry Hotspur was killed. The battle 
is described in Shakespeare’s Henry IV. See note to Chevy 
Chace, 37 : 12. 

92 : 17. Lancastrian : pertaining to the house of Lancaster, 
to which Henry belonged. 

92:21. Black Prince: See note to Edward the Black 
Prince, 6 : 31. 

92 : 29. martingale : a strap for holding down a horse’s 
head. 

92 : 30. Duke of Newcastle : William Cavendish, states- 
man and writer, who was made duke in 1665. He was a 
skillful horse-trainer. 

93 : 6. Vandyke (or VanDyck) : portrait painter of Ant- 
werp, Italy, and England, who died in 1641. Gothic : pointed, 
like Gothic medieval architecture. 

93: 7. Vernon semper viret: Vernon lives forever; if read 
ver non, Spring does not last forever. The quotation, line 10, 
is from Richard III , III, i, 82. 

93 : 28. Gwillym : John Gwillym, pen name of Dr. John 
Barkham, dean of Booking, author of A Display of Heraldry. 

94 ; 20. Charles I : beheaded in 1649 as a “ tyrant, traitor, 
murderer, and public enemy.” 

95 : 14. scythe-man : Time. Cf. Longfellow, The Reaper 
and the Flowers. 

95 : 22. St. Omers : the seat of an early Jesuit college, 
twenty-five miles southeast of Calais, France. 

99 : 19. Forth : The Forth rises between Loch Lomond 
and Loch Katrine (see Map 2) and flows east, past Stirling, 
into the Firth of Forth, near Edinburgh. 

101: 1. trained to arms: the Highland manner before the 
disarmament of 1746. 

102 : 8. piqueing : scoring thirty points in one hand before 
one’s opponent scores at all. 


NOTES 


445 


102 : 9. capoting : winning all the tricks. 

103 : 9. Hexham : Both Morpeth and Hexham were towns 
of historical importance. See Map 1 and note to Morpeth, 

398 : 8. 

104 : 23. Dunciad. See note to Twickenham, 107 : 4. 

105 : 28. Amalekites : See Genesis xxxvi, 12. 

106 : 23. Ovid : Ovid, the Latin poet, wrote Tristia, con- 
sisting of letters to friends at home, while in banishment at 
Tomi, near the Delta of the Danube, to which the name of 
Thrace was once extended. 

106 : 28. Twineall : See note to 11 : 21. 

106 : 33. build the lofty rhyme : See Milton’s Lycidas, 10- 
11 : 


Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew 
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 

107 : 2. Apollo : god of music and poetry, as well as of the 
sun. 

107 : 4. Twickenham : the home of Alexander Pope, who 
lashed his contemporaries in the Dunciad (“ epic for dunces ”) 
(1728-1742). 

107 : 9. Button’s Coffee-house : a meeting place of wits in 
Queen Anne’s time in Russell Street, near Covent Garden. 

108:7. Mazarin: Jules Mazarin (1602-1661), prime min- 
ister under Louis XIV. Alberoni: Giulio (1664-1752), 
Italian prelate, minister of Philip V of Spain. 

109 : 23. carte du pays : map of the country. 

109 : 27. Calypso : the nymph who held captive the ship- 
wrecked Ulysses in her island of Ogygia. 

Ill : 19. Plutus : the Greek god of riches. 

112 : 33. Diana : For the original of Diana Vernon see 
Crocket, The Scott Originals , Chapter XII. 

114: Motto. Othello: II, iii, 280. 

114:21. costard: apple; humorous for head. 

115 : 19. Horrible thought ! The lines are an adaptation 
from Macbeth, Act IV, scene 1. 


446 


NOTES 


117 : 23. Lombard Street : See note to Change, 22 : 8. 

118 : 4. Florentine : The Italian poet Dante, author of 
Divina Commedia (1300, 1311), was born in Florence. 

119 : 4. archimage : wizard, magician ; the name given to 
the personification of hypocrisy in The Faerie Queene. 

121 : 15. Cassio : See Othello , Act II, scene 3. 

122 : 30. Camilla : “ the warlike daughter of an ancient 
Volscian king, a character in the JEneid.” 

123 : 30. Black Bear of Norway : The story, similar to 
that of Cupid and Psyche, has versions in Holland and Ire- 
land; in the former, the black bull, in the latter the brown 
bear. 

132 : 13. Misegun : a town on the coast of Morocco. 

133:11. Fife: a province north of the Firth of Forth. 
Kirkcaldy, fifteen miles north of Edinburgh, is the birth- 
place of Adam Smith, who wrote The Wealth of Nations. 

134 : 14. pock-pudding English : Cf. Carlyle’s remark 
that Macaulay was “ a good-natured fellow made out of 
oatmeal,” and Macbeth’s taunt to his deserters : 

“ Then fly, false thanes, 

And mingle with the English epicures.” 

135 : 12. St. James’s Palace : formerly the royal palace ; 
hence, diplomatically, “ Court of St. James.” 

136:21. Sir John the Graeme: champion of Wallace, 
slain at Falkirk in 1298. 

141 : 3. whisk and swabbers : an old form of whist. 

141 : 4. Ariosto : Italian poet, author of Orlando Furioso 
(1516), one of the first to use materials of chivalric romance 
in classical form and epic dignity. Byron, in Childe Harold's 
Pilgrimage, Canto IV, Stanza xl, calls Scott the “ Ariosto of 
the North.” 

143 : Motto : Whence and what art thou? From Milton’s 
Paradise Lost, ii. 681. 

149 : Motto. Robinson Crusoe: by Defoe, 1719. 

160: 13. Ladies and knights, etc.: The stanza is Spen- 
serian (used by Spenser in The Faerie Queene ), containing 


- NOTES 


447 


eight iambic pentameter lines (ten syllables, with accents on 
the even ones) and one hexameter (twelve syllables and six 
accents), with the rhyme-scheme ababbcbcc. See also the 
Spenserian stanzas in The Lady of the Lake. The whole 
passage is probably autobiographical. See Crockett, The 
Scott Originals, Chapter XXIV, and the note to Ariosto, above. 

150 : 19. Trojano : Trojan, one of the greatest and best 
emperors of Rome, who died 117 a.d. 

150 : 22. Roland : hero of Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso. Ro- 
land’s mother, Bertha, was the sister of Charlemagne, “ Chris- 
tian Charles.” 

151 : 5. Garonne : See note to 8 : 5. 

153 : 26. To horse : Shakespeare’s Richard II, II, i, 299. 

156 \ Motto. Tickell : Thomas Tickell (1686-1740), whose 
poetical version of the Iliad precipitated the famous quarrel 
between Pope and Addison. 

159 : 4. Greystock : Greystoke, in the lake region near 
Ulls water. See Map 1. 

163 : 14. Spenser : See note to 150 : 13. 

167 : Motto. Burger : the German poet whose Lenore and 
The Wild Huntsman Scott translated in 1796. 

167 : 6. Messrs. MacVittie, MacFin & Company : the 
leading correspondents of Osbaldistone and Tresham. Gal- 
lo wgate : Gallow Street, in the old town of Glasgow. 

169 : 7. Lightfoot : Dr. John Lightfoot, vice-chancellor of 
Cambridge University in the seventeenth century. 

172 : 6. Lucifer : Satan. 

172 : 24. Gothic : See note to 93 : 6. 

173 : 19. Hotspur : See notes to Chevy Chace, 37 : 12, 
and Shrewsbury, 92 : 16. 

174 : 32. Union : that of England and Scotland. See 
Introduction, page xxv. 

176 : 5. jurisdictions, etc. : for jurisdiction^ fundadae 
causa, to have law declared. 

177 : 17. enterprise : the rebellion of 1715. See Introduc- 
tion, page xxvi. 

178 \Motto. Langhorne: John (1735-1779). 


448 


NOTES 


179 : 30. Clyde : the river of Glasgow. 

180 : 14. St. Mungo’s : St. Mungo is the popular name of 
St. Kentigern, one of the three great Christian missionaries 
in Scotland, who labored in Glasgow from 573 to 603, and 
who was buried on the site of the cathedral. 

181 : 15. Laigh Kirk : The Laigh Kirk, or crypt of the 
Glasgow Cathedral, served for more than two centuries as 
the church of the Barony Parish. 

182 : 5. Cathedral : Built in the twelfth and thirteenth 
centuries, the cathedral is remarkable for its massive sim- 
plicity. Its interior has sixty-five superb pillars. In the 
cathedral Edward I worshiped in 1301, during his campaign 
against Scotland, and Robert Bruce was absolved for the 
murder of his rival in 1306. 

182 : 10. Kirkwall : capital town of the Orkney Islands, 
north of Scotland; its cathedral dates from 1138. 

182: 11. Reformation: in the middle of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, under John Knox. 

182 : 19. St. Andrews and Perth : The former is northeast 
of Edinburgh on the coast ; the latter, twenty-five miles north 
of Edinburgh, near the mouth of the bay. 

182 : 24. Gorbals : southern suburbs of Glasgow. 

184 .Motto. Mourning Bride: drama by Congreve, 1697, 
beginning with the famous line “ Music hath charms to soothe 
the savage breast.” 

186 : 6. standing : not now universally true : some congre- 
gations, though standing to sing, kneel in prayer. 

186 : 16. clergyman : “ I have in vain laboured to dis- 
cover this gentleman’s name, and the period of his incumbency. 
I do not, however, despair to see these points, with some others 
which may elude my sagacity, satisfactorily elucidated by one 
or other of the periodical publications which have devoted 
their pages to explanatory commentaries on my former vol- 
umes ; and whose research and ingenuity claim my peculiar 
gratitude, for having discovered many persons and circum- 
stances connected with my narratives, of which I myself 
never so much as dreamed.” — Scott’s Note. 


NOTES 


449 


187 : 14. Calvinist: a follower of John Calvin (1509-1564), 
who taught the doctrine that God “ foreordains whatsoever 
cometh to pass.” 

193 : Motto. Venice Preserved : a tragedy by T. Otway, 1682. 

193 : 4. St. Enoch’s Kirk : “ This I believe to be an 

anachronism, as Saint Enoch’s Church was not built at the 
date of the story.” — Scott’s Note. It was founded in 1780, 
and has since been rebuilt. 

193 : 16. talisman : something to produce magical effects. 
Have you read Scott’s Talisman f 

194 : 28. Diana of the Ephesians : See Acts xix, 28. 

195 : 5. Davie Lindsay : Sir David Lindsay of the Mount 
(died 1555), author of Satire of the Three Estates and other 
verse which played a part in the Reformation second only 
to that of John Knox. See Scott’s long note to Marmion, 
Canto IV, line 153. 

196 : 6. Mirza : The Vision of Mirza was described by 
Addison in The Spectator , No. 159. 

197 : 30. follow me : Cf. Hamlet , Act I, scene 4. 

199 : 6. Cross of Edinburgh : the cross surmounting the 
tolbooth or jail. What figure of speech? Cf. the Tower of 
London. Scott himself immortalized the tolbooth in The 
Heart of Midlothian. 

200 : 21. stane’s weight : fourteen pounds. 

202 : Motto. The Prison: a translation from Ariosto. 

203:31. Gaelic: the Celtic language of the Highlanders, 
which the Lowlanders called Earse or Erse. 

205 : 16. Almanza : in Spain ; the scene of a French vic- 
tory over the Spanish and English in 1707. 

206 : 17. Salt-Market : This ancient street, in the heart 
of Glasgow, has been completely renovated. 

206 : 19. per contra: on the contrary. 

212: 2. judicio sisti: for delay of judgment. 

212:27. judicatum solvi: acquittal. 

214 : 2. Diogenes : a cynic philosopher of Athens, who 
died 323 b.c. According to Seneca he lived in a tub ; but 
the text alludes to his search for an honest man. 

2g 


■450 


NOTES 


216 : 27. Schehallion : thirty-five miles north of Loch 
Katrine, and 3547 feet high. 

217 : 4. foist and a warming pan : It was popularly be- 
lieved that the Pretender was a supposititious child, being 
introduced into the royal bed in a warming pan. An 
old proverb calls the servant-maid the Scotchman’s warm- 
ing-pan. 

218:22. Martinmas: an old festival held November 11 
for St. Martin of France (316-400). 

218 : 29. Tityre tu patulae [recubans sub tegmine fagi] : 
“ Oh, Tityrus, reclining under the shade of the wide-spreading 
beech ” ; hence, playing the pastoral poet. The opening lines 
of the First Pastoral of Vergil. 

220 : 16. Piets : inhabitants of Great Britain in the Stone 
Age. 

221 : 8. Drymen : Bucklivie : See Map 2. 

221 : 9. Clachan of Aberfoil : See Scott’s note on Scottish 
inns, in Waverley, Chapter VII. 

221 : 14. Gorbals : See note to 182 : 24. 

221 : 19. justified : executed for treason. 

221 : 20. Dumbarton : a town on the Clyde, at the mouth 
of the Leven: See Map 2. Its famous castle, which had 
served as a prison of the Scotch hero William Wallace and 
as a residence of Mary Queen of Scotts, was one of the four 
Scotch castles preserved under treaty of Union in 1707. 

221 : 30. Inch-Cailleach : “ Inch-Cailleach is an island in 

Loch Lomond, where the clan of MacGregor were wont to be 
interred, and where their sepulchers may still be seen. It 
formerly contained a nunnery; hence the name Inch-Cail- 
leach, of the Island of Old Women.” — Scott’s Note. The 
MacGregors, like other Highland clans, had profound reverence 
for burial places. One of the amplest imprecations was, 
“ May his ashes be scattered on the waters.” In The Fair 
Maid of Perth Scott describes in detail the funeral ceremonies 
of a chieftain. See also The Lady of the Lake , Canto III, 
190 ff. 

222 : 26. Come fill up my cap, etc. : This is a stanza from 


NOTES 


451 


Bonnie Dundee, first published in The Doom of Devorgoil, in 
1830. “ The air was running in my head to-day,” said Scott 

in his Journal, December 22, 1825. u I wrote a few verses to 
it before dinner, taking the keynote from the story of Clavers 
leaving the Scottish Convention of Estates in 1688-1689. I 
wonder if they are good.” The world has pronounced them 
among his best. Clavers was John Graham of Claverhouse, 
Viscount Dundee. The poem immortalizes his journey to 
Edinburgh, a few weeks before he was killed at Killiecrankie, 
opposing King William. See Introduction, page xxiv. 

223 : 20. Haman : See Esther iii, 1. 
r 224 : 9. Ben Lomond : on the eastern side of Loch Lomond, 
3192 feet high, and one of the sources of the Forth. 

226 : 1. Gilead : Jeremiah 8 : 22. 

227 : Motto. Green’s Tu Quoque: This was a play en- 
titled The City Gallant, by John Cooke, first published in 
1599, and included in Dodsley’s Old Plays. It gained the 
name of Green’s Tu Quoque from the continual use of the 
phrase in the play by a celebrated actor of the time, named 
Green. 

227 : 12. Xantippe : wife of Socrates, the Athenian phi- 
losopher. She was famous as a scolding, shrewish wife. 
One day, after storming at the philosopher, she emptied a 
vessel of dirty water on his head, whereupon he simply re- 
marked, “ Ay, ay, we always look for rain after thunder.” 

229 : 19. Wapping : a quarter of London, on the north 
bank of the Thames, below the tower. 

229 : 22. Loch Fine : fifteen miles west of Loch Lomond 
and still noted for its herring fisheries. 

231 : 33. Boyd : Zachary Boyd, noted for his exceedingly 
humorous poetic translation of the Scriptures. 

233 ‘.Motto. Palamon and Arcite: Dryden’s modernized 
version of Chaucer’s tale. 

233: 1. college: The university, founded in 1662, has re- 
cently been replaced by railroad yards and rebuilt on a mag- 
nificent site on a hill two miles away. 

237 : 8. seizing : not now legitimate in single combat. 


452 


NOTES 


242: Motto. Gray: Thomas Gray, whose Elegy (1751) is 
one of the best known poems in the language. 

243:21. Musselburgh: near Edinburgh. For the other 
places mentioned, consult maps of England and Scotland, 
shalloon : a light woolen fabric first made at Chalons, France, 
and used for linings. 

244 : 18. snow ba’s : “ The boys in Scotland used formerly 

to make a sort of Saturnalia in a snow-storm, by pelting 
passengers with snow-balls. But those exposed to that an- 
noyance were excused from it on the easy penalty of a baik 
(curtsey) from a female, or a bow from a man. It was only 
the refractory who underwent the storm.” — Scott’s Note. 
Cf. Scott’s notes to The Lady of the Lake, Canto V, line 564, 
and The Lay of the Last Minstrel, V, 110. 

245 : 12. Rehoboam : See 1 Kings xiv, 21 ff. 

246 : 8. Charles : Charles II was defeated by Cromwell at 
Worcester in 1651. 

248 : 10. Lord Ilay : Archibald Campbell, third duke of 
Argyle, brother of John the second duke (see note to 78 : 23), 
was made Earl of Islay, or Ilay, in 1705. He had great 
influence in Scotch politics, representing Scotland in every 
parliament from 1707 to 1761 except that of 1713. 

248: 11. under a bushel: Matthew v, 15. son of Sirach: 
Ben Sira, a Jewish writer, author of Ecclesiasticus. 

249 : 7. Orkneys : See note to Kirkwall, 182 : 10. Gaelic : 
See note to 203 : 31. 

250 : 25. thigging and sorning : “A kind of genteel begging, 
or rather something between begging and robbing, by which 
the needy in Scotland used to extort cattle, or the means of 
subsistence, from those who had any to give.” — Scott’s Note. 

251:1. pretty: “The word pretty is, or was, used in 
Scotch, in the sense of the German prachtig, and meant a 
gallant, alert fellow, prompt and ready at his weapons.” — 
Scott’s Note. 

251 : 22. Glenstrae : chief of the clan at Glenfruin. See 
Introduction, page xxix. 

252 : 5. Lennox and Breadalbane : The Lennox country 


NOTES 


453 


encircled the lower end of Loch Lomond (see note to Loch 
Lomond) ; the Breadalbane country was north of Loch 
Katrine. The expression therefore means “ throughout the 
Highlands . ’ ’ What similar expressions do we have in America ? 

252 : 27 . Shabble : cutlass. 

262 : 33. broken man : outlaw. 

253 : 13. blackmail : See Introduction, pages xx, xxxv. In 
a note to The Lady of the Lake, Canto V, line 270, Scott says 
that soon after 1700 John Gunn, a noted Highland robber, in- 
fested Iverness-shire and levied blackmail up to the very 
walls of the castle. 

253 : 16. Stirling Castle : Stirling Castle is famous in 
history and literature. The favorite abode of the kings of 
Scotland, it was taken and retaken by the Scotch and the 
English, and was unsuccessfully besieged by the Highlanders 
in 1745. Near by is Bannockburn, where Bruce defeated 
Edward II in 1314. See Scott’s The Lord of the Isles and 
Burns’s Bannockburn. The territory between Stirling and 
Loch Lomond (Map 2) was the scene of many battles in the 
wars of Wallace, Bruce, Montrose, and the Young Pretender. 
The setting of the last canto of The Lady of the Lake is Stirling 
Castle. 

254 : 2. Rob keeps his word : In your opinion, would the 
bailie agree with the sentiment of the sixth stanza in the 
selection from Wordsworth on page xlii; with the seventh? 

254 : 17. harried : plundered. 

254 : 28. hurdies : buttocks ; that is, he would be hanged. 

255 : 2. Robin Hood : Where have you met this hero in 

literature before? William Wallace: Scotch hero, defeated 
by Edward I at Falkirk, southeast of Stirling, in 1298. Wal- 
lace and Bruce figure in Jane Porter’s Scottish Chiefs. 

255 : 19. Killiecrankie year: 1689; see Introduction, page 
xxiv. 

255 : 31. King George : See Introduction, page xxvi. 

256 : 6. outbreak : rebellion of 1715. See Introduction, 
page xxvi. 

256 : 8. Montrose : James Graham, marquis of Montrose, 


454 


NOTES 


who, assisted by the MacDonalds, defeated the Marquis of 
Argyle and the Campbells at Interlochy, in 1644. In 1650 
he led a royalist descent on Scotland, was captured, and 
executed. See Scott’s A Legend of Montrose. 

257 : 26. Jock Wabster : a character in Ramsay’s The 
Gentle Shepherd. The sentence means, “ All gone wrong.” 

258 : 29. Breadalbane : rival of Argyle and Rob Roy, who 
lived at Taymouth Castle, near the northern end of Loch 
Tay. See Introduction, page xxviii, and Map 2. 

258:31. Henry Wynd : “ Two great clans fought out a 

quarrel with thirty men of a side, in presence of the king, on 
the North Inch of Perth, on or about the year 1392 ; a man 
was amissing on one side, whose room was filled by a little 
bandy-legged citizen of Perth. This substitute, Henry Wynd 
— or, as the Highlanders called him, Gow Chrom, that is, the 
bandy-legged smith — fought well, and contributed greatly 
to the fate of the battle, without knowing which side he 
fought on — so, to fight for your own hand, like Henry Wynd, 
passed into a proverb.” — Scott’s Note. 

259: 15. Baker’s Chronicle: Sir Richard Baker’s Chronicle 
of the Kings of England (1730). 

259 : 16. Genoa : in northern Italy, the birthplace of 
Columbus. 

259 : 18. Spanish Armada : the famous Armada sent out 
by Philip II of Spain against England, defeated in the English 
Channel and Straits of Dover in August, 1588. 

259 : 25. Sackless : innocent. 

• 260 : 5. per contra : on the contrary. 

260 : 28. Drymen Muir : See Map 2. 

260 : 31. reset : harboring outlaws. 

262 : Motto. Prophecy of Famine : A poem by Charles 
Churchill, who died in 1764. 

265 : 32. St. Mungo : See note to 180 : 14. 

266:10. Mons Meg: “ Mons Meg was a large old- 
fashioned piece of ordnance, a great favourite with the Scot- 
tish common people ; she was fabricated at Mons, in Flanders, 
in the reign of James IV or V of Scotland. This gun figures 


NOTES 


455 


frequently in the public accounts of the time, where we find 
charges for grease to grease Meg’s mouth withal (to increase, 
as every schoolboy knows, the loudness of the report), ribands 
to deck her carriage, and pipes to play before her when she was 
brought from the Castle to accompany the Scottish army on 
any distant expedition. After the Union, there was much 
popular apprehension that the Regalia of Scotland, and the 
subordinate Palladium, Mons Meg, would be carried to Eng- 
land to complete the odious surrender of national independ- 
ence. The Regalia, sequestered from the sight of the public, 
were generally supposed to have been abstracted in this man- 
ner. ^.s for Mons Meg, she remained in the Castle of Edin- 
burgh, till, by order of the Board of Ordnance, she was actually 
removed to Woolwich about 1757. The Regalia, by his 
Majesty’s special command, have been brought forth from 
their place of concealment in 1818, and exposed to the view 
of the people, by whom they must be looked upon with deep 
associations ; and, in this very winter of 1828-1829, Mons Meg 
has been restored to the country, where that, which in every 
other place or situation was a mere mass of rusty iron, becomes 
once more a curious monument of antiquity.” — Scott’s Note. 

266 : 11. William Wallace : See note to 255 : 2. 

266 : 12 . Davie Lindsay : See note to 195 : 5. 

267 : 20. Glasgow Cross : the jail. See note to Cross of 
Edinburgh, 199 : 6. 

271 : 10. ad crumenam : to the purse. 

272 : 9 . Tweed : See Introduction, pages x, xiii, xvi. 
Spey : the largest river of northern Scotland. 

273 : 15. fairies : “ The lakes and precipices amidst which 

the Avondhu or river Forth has its birth are still, according 
to popular tradition,* haunted by the elfin people, the most 
peculiar but most pleasing of the creations of Celtic super- 
stitions. The opinions entertained about these beings are 
much the same with those of the Irish, so exquisitely well 
narrated by Mr. Crofton Croker. An eminently beautiful 
little conical hill, near the eastern extremity of the valley of 
Aberfoil, is supposed to be one of their peculiar haunts, and 


456 


NOTES 


is the scene which awakens in Andrew Fairservice [Mr. Jarvie] 
the terror of their power. It is remarkable that two successive 
clergymen of the parish of Aberfoil have employed themselves 
in writing about this fairy superstition. The eldest of these 
was Robert Kirk, a man of some talents, who translated the 
Psalms into Gaelic verse. He had formerly been minister at 
the neighboring parish of Balquidder, and died at Aberfoil 
in 1688 at the early age of forty-two. 

“ He was author of the Secret Commonwealth, which was 
printed after his death in 1691, an edition which I have never 
seen, and was reprinted in Edinburgh (1815). This is a work 
concerning the fairy people, in whose existence Mr. Kirk 
appears to have been a devout believer. He describes them 
with the usual powers and qualities ascribed to such beings 
in Highland tradition. 

“ But what is sufficiently singular, the Rev. Robert Kirk, 
author of the said treatise, is believed himself to have been 
taken away by the fairies, in revenge, perhaps, for having let 
in too much light upon the secrets of their commonwealth. 
We learn this catastrophe from the information of his suc- 
cessor, the late amiable and learned Dr. Patrick Graham, 
also minister at Aberfoil, who, in his Sketches of Perthshire, 
has not forgotten to touch upon the Daoine Shie, or men of 
peace. 

“ The Rev. Robert Kirk was, it seems, walking upon a little 
eminence to the west of the present manse, which is still held 
a Dun Shie, or fairy mound, when he sunk down in what 
seemed to mortals a fit, and was supposed to be dead. This, 
however, was not his real fate. 

“ Mr. Kirk was the near relation of Graham of Duchray, 
the ancestor of the present General Grahhm Stirling. Shortly 
after his funeral he appeared in the dress in which he had sunk 
down to a mutual relation of his own and of Duchray. 1 Go,’ 
said he to him, ‘ to my cousin Duchray, and tell him that I 
am not dead. I fell down in a swoon and was carried into 
Fairyland, where I now am. Tell him that when he and my 
friends are assembled at the baptism of my child (for he had 


NOTES 


457 


left his wife pregnant), I will appear in the room, and that, if 
he throws the knife which he holds in his hand over my head, 
I*will be released and restored to human society/ The man, 
it seems, neglected for some time to deliver the message. 
Mr. Kirk appeared to him a second time, threatening to 
haunt him night and day till he executed his commission, 
which at length he did. The time of the baptism arrived. 
They were seated at table ; Mr. Kirk entered, but the Laird 
of Duchray, by some unaccountable fatality, neglected to 
perform the prescribed ceremony. Mr. Kirk retired by 
another door, and was seen no more. It is firmly believed 
that he is, at this day, in Fairyland/’ — Sketches of Perth- 
shire, page 254. — Scott’s Note. 

Read, for comparison, The Lady of the Lake, Canto III, 
lines 149-178. In his note to lines 167, 8 — 

Late had he heard in prophet’s dream 
The fatal Ben-Shie’s boding scream — 

Scott says in part : “ Most great families in the Highlands 
were supposed to have a tutelar, or rather a domestic spirit 
attached to them, who took an interest in their prosperity 
and intimated, in its wailings, any approaching disaster.” 

Sounds too had come in niidnight blast 
Of charging steeds, 

which “ augured ill to Alpine’s line.” A presage of this kind, 
says Scott, “ is still believed to announce death to the ancient 
Highland family of McLean of Lochbuy.” Read Canto 
IV, The Prophecy. Read also Scott’s essay on Fairy Super- 
stition in Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border ; the note to 
Brownie, 286 : 17, in this volume, and Scott’s notes to Mar- 
mion, III, 25, and A Legend of Montrose , Chapter XVII. 
Blind Alice at the fountain in The Bride of Lammermoor has 
been called the best wraith in fiction. 

Compare the superstitions in Blackmore’s Lorna Doone, 
Chapters XVII, XVIII, and XLII ; Macbeth, Act I, scene iii, 
and Act IV, scene i ; and Burns’s Tam O’Shanter. 


458 


NOTES 


274 : 4. bridge : The old bridge, built by Bishop Rae in 
1345, was succeeded by the present Victoria Bridge in 1850. 

275 : 8. Ha niel Sassenach : I can’t speak English. 

275:22. Callander: a picturesque village on the Teith; 

see Map 2. 

276 : 12. Hecate : goddess of witchcraft. 

276 : 14. Cupar : a town in Fife, north of Edinburgh, noted 
for its “ Cupar justice ” — hang first and try afterwards 
(see note to Jeddart, 387 : 11). The text means, “ A wilful 
man must have his way.” 

276 : 17. Tophet : a place of idolatrous worship near 
Jerusalem ; hence Hell. 

277 : 12. Duinhewassels : clansmen of superior rank. 

280 : 7. Dat veniam, etc. : the crows escape, the doves are 
censured. 

280 : 26. coulter. “ The enterprising landlord [of the 
present Nicol Bailie Jarvie Inn] capitalizes the incident by 
exhibiting the identical poker, which he has attached to the 
limb of a tree, thereby recalling Scott’s story of the keeper 
of a museum who showed the very sword with which Balaam 
was about to kill his ass. A visitor interrupted him with the 
remark that Balaam did not possess a sword ; he only wished 
for one. 1 True, sir, ’ was the reply, ‘ but this is the very 
sword he wished for.’ ” — Olcott, The Country of Sir Walter 
Scott, pages 193-4. 

282: 6. hors de combat: disabled, out of the struggle. 

282 : 13. archilowe : “ of unknown origin, signifies a peace 
offering.” — Scott’s Note. 

282 : 31. Glencroe : See Map 2 ; not to be confused with 
Glencoe (see Introduction, page xxiv). 

283 : 6. Bothwell Brigg : eight miles east of Glasgow, where 
the Covenanters were defeated in 1679. Near by are the 
ruins of Bothwell Castle, to which the Earl of Bothwell 
carried Mary Queen of Scots. See Old Mortality, Chapter 
XXXII. 

285 : 5. Endrick : See Map 2. 

286 : 17. Brownie : a good-natured goblin of Scandinavian 


NOTES 


459 


origin, supposed to haunt farmhouses and do much useful 
work at night. Cf. Puck, the household fairy and jester in 
A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Read also Robin Goodfellow , 
a ballad in Percy’s Reliques ; Milton’s L’ Allegro, lines 104 ff. ; 
the note to fairies, 273 : 15 ; and Marmion, Canto IV, 
line 31. 

289 : 22. Slioch-nan-Diarmid : sons of Diarmid (Highland 
name of Campbells), defeated at Inverlochy (see note to 
Montrose, 256:8). 

289 : 23. Inverara : See note to Argyle, 78 : 23. 

289 : 24. lymphads : “ the galley which the family of 
Argyle and others of the clan Campbell carry in their arms.” 
— Scott’s Note. 

289 : 26. Cowan : Cowal, a district of Argyleshire. 

289 : 28. Lochow : Loch Awe (see Map 2). “ Lochow and 

the adjacent districts formed the original seat of the Camp- 
bells. The expression of a * far cry to Lochow ’ was pro- 
verbial.” — Scott’s Note. 

290 : 1. Guile : Guile and Lorn were districts of Argyle- 
shire. 

290 : 6. maiden : a rude kind of guillotine formerly used 
in Scotland. The instrument, which is now on exhibition 
in the Museum of Antiquaries in Edinburgh, consists of a 
narrow framework, surmounted by a pulley, which lifts the 
blade. A legend, probably false, attributes the invention to 
Earl Morton, of Queen Mary Stuart’s reign. 

With the maiden is associated “ the last sleep of Argyle.” 
Condemned to die in 1685, Archibald Campbell, son of the 
Marquis of Argyle (see note to Montrose, 256 : 8), embraced 
the instrument of execution, and in allusion to its popular 
name, said it was the sweetest maiden he had ever kissed, 
then laid his head upon the block. 

290:31. Glenfinlas : east of Loch Katrine. See Map 2. 
Glenfinlas, or Lord Ronald’s Coronach, an early ballad by 
Scott, described much of the same scenery as The Lady of the 
Lake, Waverley, and Rob Roy. 

290 : 31. Appine : west of Argyleshire. 


460 


NOTES 


290 : 33. Glenfalloch : north of Loch Lomond. See Map 2. 

291:23. moon, etc.: “ There’s a full moon, so that one 
pint more or less won’t matter.” 

293 : 6. Duncan MacLaren : “ This, as appears from the 

introductory matter to this tale, is an anachronism. The 
slaughter of MacLaren, a retainer of the chief of Appine, by 
the MacGregors, did not take place till after Rob Roy’s 
death.” — Scott’s Note. 

293 : 13. following purpose : The incident, probably in- 
vented by Scott, contrasts the English strictness with the 
Scottish impetuosity in the Jacobite revolt. See Canning, 
History in Scott’s Novels, page 270. 

296 : 30. Argyleshire : See Introduction, page xxxii. 

298 : Motto. Bonduca: a tragedy by John Fletcher, acted 
1616 ; printed 1647. 

303: 11. present day: “ I do not know how this might 
stand in Mr. Osbaldistone’s day, but I can assure the reader, 
whose curiosity may lead him to visit the scenes of these 
romantic adventures, that the Clachan of Aberfoil now affords 
a very comfortable little inn. If he chances to be a Scottish 
antiquary, it will be an additional recommendation to him, 
that he will find himself in the vicinity of the Rev. Dr. Patrick 
Grahame, minister of the gospel at Aberfoil, whose urbanity 
in communicating information on the subject of national 
antiquities, is scarce exceeded even by the stores of legendary 
lore which he has accumulated.” — Scott’s Original Note. 
The respectable clergyman alluded to has been dead for some 
years. — Note added in 1829. 

303 : 24. weird sisters : See Macbeth, Act I, scene iii. 

304 : 15. Guiyock : “ A great feudal oppressor, who, riding 
on some cruel purpose through the forest of Guiyock, was 
thrown from his horse, and, his foot being caught in the 
stirrup, was dragged along by the frightened animal till he 
was torn to pieces. The expression Walter of Guiyock’ s 
curse is proverbial.” — Scott’s Note. 

304 : 32. Glengyle : at the western end of Loch Katrine ; 
one of Rob Roy’s “ birthplaces.” See Introduction, page xxxi. 


NOTES 


461 


304 : 33. Balquidder : Rob Roy’s burial-place. See Map 
2 and Introduction, page xxxviii. Read Wordsworth’s Rob 
Roy’s Grave. 

305 : 4. Cumries : islands in the Firth of Clyde. See Map 2. 

306 : 28. Gregarach : MacGregor. 

310 : 32. Golden Fleece : The golden fleece was hung on a 
sacred oak by King A3tes. Trongate : a Glasgow street, full 
of dealers in small wares, then known as mercers. 

311 : 32. Mahomet : The coffin of Mahomet, or Mo- 
hammed, is said to be suspended in mid-air, by loadstones 
or angels. 

313 : Motto. The Gaulliad : an old collection of French 
poems. 

314 : 15. drab de berries : thick woolen cloth, made in the 
district of Berri, in central France. 

314 : 18. gabbart : “a kind of lighter used in the river 
Clyde, probably from the French gabare.” — Scott’s Note. 

314 : 19. Broomielaw : a quay, 800 feet long, in Glasgow 
harbor. 

316 : 13. Steinkirk : a richly laced cravat, loosely knotted, 
which came into fashion after the battle of Steinkirk, Belgium, 
in 1692. 

317 : 13. Judith : the beautiful Jewess of Bethulia, who, in 
order to save her native town, killed Nebuchadnezzar’s gen- 
eral. 

317 : 14. Deborah : a heroine who helped to deliver the 
Israelites from the Canaanites. See Judges iv, 4ff. 

317 : 15. Heber : See Judges v, 24-27. 

320 : 19. pibroch : According to Jamieson, a pibroch is “ a 
Highland air, suited to the particular passion which the 
musician would either excite or assuage; generally applied 
to those airs which are played on the bagpipe before the High- 
landers when they go out to battle.” Scott, in a long note 
to The Lady of the Lake, Canto II, line 363, says that a well- 
composed pibroch presents “ the imitative sounds of march, 
conflict, flight, pursuit, and the 1 current of a heady fight.’ ” 

Scott is fond of the pibroch. His Pibroch of Donald Dhu 


462 


NOTES 


is a poem similar to the gathering song in the third canto 
of The Lady of the Lake. MacGregor's Gathering , written for 
Albyn’s Anthology in 1816, begins in characteristic Sir Walter 
meter : 

The moon’s on the lake, and the mist’s on the brae, 

And the clan has a name that is nameless by day ; 

Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach. 

To the strains of the pibroch, also, the Highlanders rose in 
Waverley, and again in A Legend of Montrose. 

Those who have read Stevenson’s Kidnapped remember 
the touching account of the piping contest between Robin 
Oig .and Allan Breck (Chapter XXV). See also Whittier’s 
The Pipes at Lucknow , and notes to coronach, 330 : 2, and 
MacRimmon, 376 : 30. 

324 : 3. Inversnaid : See Introduction, page xxxv, and Map 
2. But Inversnaid is best remembered as the inspiration of 
Wordsworth’s poem To a Highland Girl , beginning : 

Sweet Highland girl, a very shower 
Of beauty is thy earthly dower. 

324 : 8. Loch Lomond : Loch Lomond, twenty-four miles 
long and five miles wide, is “ the pride of the Scottish lakes.” 
In its northern reaches it is bordered by high mountains, on 
the lower slopes of which are Rob Roy’s Prison and Cave. 
See Introduction, page xxxi. In the southern part are many 
islands. Ope of these, Inch-Cailleach, was a burial-place of 
the MacGregors (see note to 221 : 30), and on Inch-Murrin 
are the ruins of Lennox Castle, once occupied by the earls 
of Lennox, while the modern castle of Balloch, on the main- 
land, occupies the site of another of their castles. “ The three 
standing wonders of the Loch,” says an old account in Pic- 
turesque Scotland , “ are a floating island, fish without fins — 
or water serpents as they are sometimes termed — and waves 
without wind.” See Scott’s further description of Loch 
Lomond, page 384. 


NOTES 


463 


324 : 9. Loch Katrine : the scene of much of The Lady of 
the Lake. See Map 2. Loch Ard : See Map 2. 

324 : 25. female Chief : Cf . the passage beginning “ I 
have seldom seen,” page 308, and that beginning, “ As 
we advanced,” page 381. A. H. Miller, in his History of 
Rob Roy, declared Rob’s wife to have been “ of a gentle and 
amiable disposition,” and Crockett, in The Scott Originals, 
calls her “ a woman of agreeable temper, domesticated, hos- 
pitable, musical, poetic.” 

330 : 2. coronach : Highland lament for the dead. See 
note to MacRimmon, 376 : 30, and read the Coronach and 
Scott’s note in The Lady of the Lake, Canto III, lines 369 ff . 
See also note to Glenfinlas, 290 : 31. 

331 : 16. late events : “ The affairs of Prestonpans and 

Falkirk are probably referred to, which makes the time of 
writing the Memoirs as subsequent to 1745.” — Scott’s Note. 
See Introduction, page xxvii. 

331 : 30. Ochil Mountains : northeast of Stirling. 

332 : 6. Tom-of-Bedlam : a ticket-of-leave madman from 
Bethlehem hospital ; or one discharged as incurable. 

332 : 14. Order of the Thistle : a Scottish order dating in 
legend from 787, but established by King James V (of The 
Lady of the Lake) in 1540. 

336 : 18. Utrecht : See Introduction, page xxvi. 

336 : 30. Duchray : See Map 2. 

337 : 13. Red : See Introduction, page xl. 

342 \Motto. Gil Morrice: a ballad printed in 1765 in 
Percy’s Reliques, III, 91-100. 

347 : 26. al fresco : in the open air. 

348 : 7. Fords of Frew : Draw a map of Aberfoil and 
vicinity. 

349 : 23. Corporal Nym : corporal in the army under John 
Falstaff. He figures in Merry Wives of Windsor and Henry V. 

349 : 24. pauca verba: few words. 

351 : 3. tear : The sentence sounds like Thackeray. 

351 : 30. Lear. See the last scene of the play. 

352 : Motto. Critic: a play by Sheridan, 1779. 


464 


NOTES 


353 : 32. craig and the woodie : the throat and the withy. 
“ Twigs of willow, such as bind fagots, were often used for 
halters in Scotland and Ireland, being a sage economy for 
hemp.” — Scott’s Note. 

354 : 17. curse of Cromwell : a name given to Cromwell’s 
revolting campaign in Ireland (1649-1650). 

359 : 2. St. Germains : See Introduction, page xxvi. 

361 : 11. Sultan of Delhi: one of the most powerful of the 
ancient rulers of India. 

361:21. Dougal Ciar: Dugald. See Introduction, pages 
xxx, xxxi, and A Legend of Montrose. 

262 : 33. Malvolio : steward in Twelfth Night. Find the 
incident alluded to. 

366 : 14. Ulysses : See the Odyssey, VIII. 

367:4. louis dor: louis, a French coin worth twenty 
francs. 

367 : 8. Lupercal : See Julius C cesar, Act I, scene ii. 

370 : Motto. Count Basil : a drama by Joanna Bailie, 1798. 

372 : 8. Avondow : the Forth. 

372 : 30. tear : Cf. Marmion, Canto V, lines 472, 3 : 

But woe awaits a country when 
She sees the tears of bearded men. 

Scott’s long Introduction tells of Rob’s visit to his “ classical 
kinsman,” Dr. James Gregory, of Aberdeen, whose “ stout 
boy ” Rob wanted to take into the Highlands “ and make a 
man of him.” Robert MacGregor, alias Rob Roy, appears 
as one of the subscribers to Keith’s History of Affairs of 
Church and State in Scotland, published in Edinburgh in 
1734, the year of Rob’s death. 

374:2. Ferry o’ Balloch: at the southern end of Loch 
Lomond. See Map 2. The usual route was by Stronaclachar, 
past the birthplace of Helen MacGregor near Loch Arklet, to 
Inversnaid, thence down the lake. See under note to Loch 
Lomond, 324 : 8. 

376 : 30. MacRimmon : “ The MacRimmons or Mac- 

Crimonds were hereditary pipers to the diief of McLeod, 


NOTES 


465 


and celebrated for their talents. The pibroch said to have 
been composed by Helen MacGregor is still in existence.” 
— Scott’s Note. See Mackrimmons Lament , a poem which 
Scott contributed to Albyn’s Anthology in 1818; also his 
long note, Complete Poems (Cambridge Edition), page 439. 

379 : 1 . seventeen hundred and seven : See Introduction, 
page xxv, and Browne’s History of the Highlands , Vol. II, 
page 248. 

380 : 7. Lediart : a waterfall near the northern shore of 
Loch Ard, where Flora Maclvor ( Waverley , Chapter XXII) 
sang the Celtic song so dear to Prince Charlie, beginning, 

There is mist on the mountain, and night on the vale, 

But more dark is the sleep of the sons of the Gael, 

and ending, 

For honor, for freedom, for vengeance awake. 

381:9. corps-de-garde: garde du corps, body of men on 
guard. 

383 : 29. Seid suas : Strike up. 

384 : 18. garrison : See Introduction, page xxxv. 

385 : 32. Leven : outlet of Loch Lomond. See Map 2. 

386 : 10. Gaelic chant : Read the Boat Song in The Lady 
of the Lake, Canto II. 

386 : 25. geld : a pike. 

386 : 33. Greenock : See Map 2. 

387:11. Jeddart: Jedburgh, a border town of Scotland 
(see Map 1), famous for its “ Jeddart justice ” — hanging 
the criminal first and holding the trial afterwards. Cf. note 
to Cupar, 276 : 14. 

388 : 8. John Bunyan : author of The Pilgrim's Progress 
(1678, 1684). 

394 : Motto. The Rising in the North : a ballad of the 
great northern insurrection in 1569. Found in Percy’s 
Reliques , I, 266-274. 

395 : 10. Earl of Mar : See Introduction, page xxvi. 

2 H 


466 


NOTES 


397 : 1. Derwentwater : a supporter of the Pretender, taken 
prisoner at Preston, and executed in 1716, at the age of 26. 

398 : 8. Morpeth : a town in Northumberland (see Map 
1), where King James was proclaimed by the insurgents. 

398 : 13. Warrington Bridge : between Liverpool and Man- 
chester. 

398 : 19. Proud Preston : General Carpenter prevented 
the rebels from seizing Newcastle and then forced them to 
capitulate at Preston, in Lancashire. See Introduction, 
page xxvi. 

398:29. Newgate: a famous London prison, dating from 
the beginning of the twelfth century. 

405 : 3. And let the health : “ This pithy verse occurs, it 

is believed, in Shadwell’s play of Bury Fair.” — Scott’s Note. 

405 : 14. Fenwick : Sir John Fenwick, prime agent in a 
plot to assassinate William III ; executed in 1697. 

405 : 15. Knightsbridge affair : a Jacobite plot to assassi- 
nate William III at Knightsbridge, on his return from hunt- 
ing. The leading agents were Sir William Barclay and Sir 
William Perkins. 

405 : 19. Peace of Ryswick : See Introduction, page xxv. 

406 : 12. Pretender : See Introduction, page xxv. 

408: Motto. Wordsworth: from Simon Lee the Old Hunts- 
man. 

417 : 2. undecided : Apparently religious differences pre- 
vented unity between the Scottish and English Jacobites. 

417 : 3. Preston : See note to Proud Preston, 398 : 19. 

417 : 25. Solway : an arm of the Irish Sea between England 
and Scotland. 

420: Motto. Don Sebastian: a romance by Anna Maria 
Porter, 1800. 

422 : 7. Solomon: an epic poem in three books, 1718. 

422 : 22. arithmetical process : Read Wordsworth’s son- 
net To Sleep. 

430 : 29. Iago : See Othello , Act V, scene ii, line 304. 

434:1. How I sped: The paragraph sounds like 
Thackeray. 


Study Outline 


QUESTIONS AND TOPICS 
Setting 

1 . What is the time-setting of Rob Roy f 

2. What does the novel teach us of politics? of religion? 

3. Where does most of the story take place? 

4. Enumerate the most important scene-settings. 

5. What pictures do we find of city and of country? 

6. Do you find anything out of harmony with time and 
place ? 

7. Is there harmony between scene-setting and action? 

8. Where in particular does the author describe to make 
us visualize? 

9. Discuss two descriptions for dramatic effect. 

10. Are there any descriptions for relief through contrast? 

1 1 . Compare Roy Roy with Ivanhoe in time and place ; 
with Old Mortality; with A Legend of Montrose; with Red- 
gauntlet. 

12. Compare it with Blackmore’s Lorna Doone in time and 
place ; with Thackeray’s Henry Esmond. 

13. Compare it with Jane Porter’s Scottish Chiefs and 
Maria Edgeworth’s Castle Rackrent. 

14. Compare it with Stevenson’s Kidnapped. 

15. Which of all the books mentioned is most like Rob 
Roy in setting? 

16. Which setting appeals to you most ? Why? 

17. Discuss the importance of setting. 

18. Compare the phrase “war situation.” 

Plot 

1. Distinguish between plot and story. 

2. Has the plot of Rob Roy unity ? 

467 


468 


STUDY OUTLINE 


3. What is the major climax? 

4. Does interest continue throughout? If not, when 
and why does it* flag ? 

5. Enumerate the minor climaxes. 

6. In which is the suspense most dramatic? 

7. Discuss a quick change of scene or any other element 
of surprise. 

8. Compare Scott’s use of disguise with that in Ivanhoe 
and Marmion. 

9. When are you first sure of Rob’s part in the plot? 

10. Is his appearance at the duel between Frank and 
Rashleigh natural? 

11. Discuss pace. Is it slow or rapid? Does the author 
ever purposely make it slow, to delay the story ? 

12. One of Scott’s most intimate friends, Lady Louisa 
Stewart, declared that the last two chapters of the novel 
showed Scott to be “ tired,” and wanting “to get rid of his 
personages as fast as he could, knocking them on the head 
without mercy.” Comment. 

13. Is the plot “satisfied”? 

14. What does each chapter contribute to the plot? Is 
there any chapter that could be dispensed with? 

15. Phrase a good title for each chapter, according to 
Stevenson’s method. 

16. Discuss the purpose of the incidents. 

17. Does Scott overemphasize any or slight any? 

1 8 . Pick out passages of conversation which advance the plot . 

19. Do you find any incidents for relief? 

20. Does accident play an important part in the plot? 

21. Narrate the plot in three hundred words. 

22. Rob Roy’s appearance at the death of Rashleigh “was 
not fortuitous.” Discuss from the standpoint of plot. 

23. Who is the hero? Is he real or fictitious? Does 
this give freedom of plot construction? 

24. In this regard, compare Ivanhoe and Quentin Durward. 

25. What, in conclusion, is your opinion of the plot? 

Characters 

1. Name the chief characters in Rob Roy. 

2. Discuss their number and variety. 


STUDY OUTLINE 469 

3. Do they seem mere creations or actual flesh and 
blood ? 

4. Could any of them be dispensed with? Why? 

5. Should you like to see more of any character? Why? 

6. What acts have, to your knowledge, been duplicated 
in real life? 

7. What descriptions of characters owe much to the 
author’s analysis? 

8* What characters reveal themselves by what they do or 
say? 

9. To what extent are characters revealed by what 
others say of them? 

10. How does Scott prepare for characters before they 
appear ? 

11. Are any characters purposely contrasted? 

12. Who is the hero? 

13. Did you ever know anybody like the hero in any 
way? 

14. What qualities of character depicted in the novel are 
worthy of imitation? 

15. What qualities depicted were, in your opinion, emu- 
lated by Scott himself? 

16. Are the women in the novel depicted better than the 
men? To what extent does your knowledge of other novels 
by Scott influence your opinion ? 

17. Does Scott do well with the villain? 

18. Does he do better with the historical or the imaginary ? 

19. Are your first impressions of characters kept through- 
out the story ? 

20. Compare Rob Roy with Tom Faggus in Blackmore’s 
Lorna Doone : with Jim Hawkins in Stevenson’s Treasure 
Island. 

21. Compare Diana Vernon with Rebecca in Ivanhoe or 
Jeanie Deans in The Heart of Midlothian. 

22. Who is your favorite character in Rob Roy f Why? 

23. Does Scott suggest a tie of brotherhood between his 
characters and his reader? 

24. Does action, good or bad, affect physical appearance? 

25. What is your final judgment of Scott’s ability in 
characterization ? 


470 


STUDY OUTLINE 


Style 

1. Who tells the story? Is this natural? Who else 
could tell it ? How is the device now regarded ? 

2. In this regard, compare Goldsmith’s The Vicar of 
Wakefield, Blackmore’s Lorna Doone, Dickens’s David Copper- 
field, and Stevenson’s Treasure Island. 

3. In Henry Esmond Thackeray speaks of himself in the 
third person. Could this met hod be used in Rob Roy f Why ? 

4. Is the author’s language natural? Do the characters 
talk like real people? 

5. Is the dialect natural? Compare other writers of 
dialect. 

6. Discuss, in comparison, a short dialect story. 

7. Two important characters besides Rob Roy talk in 
the Scotch dialect. Does the author differentiate ? How? 

8. Is there much dialogue ? 

9. Discuss three passages where the dialogue shows 
character. 

10. Discuss three which aim to advance the plot. 

11. Find three which are primarily for the third purpose — 
to depict history. 

12. Find a dozen Scotch maxims and explain their con- 
tributions to the style. 

13. Discuss other examples of humor. 

14. Does the figurative language lend clearness and em- 
phasis ? 

15. Discuss other imaginative touches. 

16. This novel has “enriched the common speech.” Dis- 
cuss. 

17. Why did the editor omit much of the first two chapters ? 
Was the reason mechanical or artistic? 

18. Does Scott use many details in description?* Com- 
pare with his poems. 

19. Does Scott anywhere approach the impassioned style 
which makes The Heart of Midlothian remarkable? 

20. Is there any dialogue which resembles that between 
Rebecca and the wounded knight in Ivanhoe f 

21. Scott’s use of exposition. 

22. Does he succeed in producing a coherent, forceful unit? 

23. Is the style, on the whole, good? 


STUDY OUTLINE 


471 


24. Scott speaks of his “hurried frankness of composition 
which pleased soldiers, sailors, and young people of bold and 
active dispositions.” Discuss. 


General 

1. To which of the above — setting, plot, characters, 
style — does Rob Roy owe its chief interest? 

2. Where did Scott find his materials? 

3. Compare, in this 'respect, Shakespeare’s use of 
sources. 

4. Narrate the circumstances of the composition of 
Rob Roy. 

5. Scott said, when the title was first proposed to him, 
that he did not want to “write up to a name.” Do you 
think he succeeded? 

6. Compare others of Scott’s titles; also Julius Caesar 
and others of Shakespeare’s titles. 

7. “Every author, in some degree, portrays himself 
in his works, even be it against his will.” Discuss in the 
light of Rob Roy and compare Redgauntlet and Guy Manner- 
ing. 

8. WTiat is the function of history on this point? 

9. Scott’s “logical successor is Macaulay.” Discuss. 

10. After reading Scott it would be “historical blasphemy” 
to speak of the “Dark Ages.” Discuss. 

11. Compare Scott’s picture of Rob Roy in the novel with 
his description in the Introduction. 

12. Where does Rob Roy depart from history for the sake 
of the story? 

13. Is Scott better with persons or with scenes? with 
persons or with events ? 

14. What is the most realistic incident in the story? 

15. Which incident could best be dramatized? 

16. “Without writing especially for ethical aims, he wrote 
with ethical truth.” Does Rob Roy convey a truth? Ex- 
plain fully. 

17. Olcott considers Rob Roy “the most perfect of the 
Waverley novels.” Discuss. 

18. Compare Scott’s romanticism with Anne Radcliffe’s. 

19. Compare it with Jane Austen’s realism. 


472 


STUDY OUTLINE 


20. “I do not mean to like Waverley if I can help it,” wrote 
Jane Austen in 1814, “but I fear I must.” Comment. 

21. Why may Scott be called a realistic romancer? 

22. “Scott made history the bondmaiden of romance.” 
— Stoddard. 

23. Compare Scott’s historical method with Thackeray’s ; 
with Dumas’s. 

24. What novels included in the book-list at the end of 
this volume would Scott most relish ? 

25. “Scott - has had many imitators, but no equals.” 
Discuss. 

Narration 

1. The boyhood of Walter Scott. 

2. Rob’s boyhood (imaginary). 

3. The girlhood of Diana (imaginary). 

4. The autobiography of Rob’s gun. 

5. A story told to you by an aged person. 

6. Scott’s financial failure. 

7. Rob’s escape (by himself). 

8. Rob’s escape (by the general). 

9. Chevy Chase. 

10. Glenfruin. 

11. Select five maxims in Rob Roy and on each of them 
base a short story or incident. 1 

12. Retell a Scotch story or anecdote. 

13. Narrate a good Lincoln story. 

14. Narrate the most thrilling adventure which you have 
read since America entered the war. 

15. Tell in brief the story of your favorite novel on enter- 
ing the high school. 

16. Construct any incident to insert in Rob Roy. 

17. Do similarly for any other novel. 

18. An incident in the history or the tradition of your 
neighborhood. 

19. The battle of Flodden ( Marmion ). 

20. The battle of Beal’ an Duine ( Lady of the Lake, Canto 
VI, 369 ff.). 

21. Bannockburn. 

1 The nature of many of the topics compels the pupil to 
select and capitalize his own title. 


STUDY OUTLINE 


473 


22. Cantigny. 

23. Sheriff muir. 

24. Tell the story of the poker fight from Rob’s point of 
view, from his opponent’s ; from a spectator’s ; from Mattie’s. 

25. Narrate briefly three other incidents remarkable for 
their local color. 

26. What incident in Rob Roy is in itself a good short story 
of local color? Tell it in your own words. 

27. Treat similarly an incident of adventure. 

28. Is there any incident of mystery? 

29. Is there any incident which aims to teach? 

30. Write an original story. 

Description 

1. The city of St. Mungo. 

2. Roy Roy’s cave. 

3. Abbotsford. 

4. Scott’s personal appearance. 

5. Helen MacGregor. 

6. The tolbooth. 

7. Describe any famous picture of Scott. 

8. Lake George. 

9. Storm King. 

10. A house of historic importance. 

11. Describe Helen on the cliff, from the point of view of 
the bailie ; of Morris ; of her son ; of some neutral person 
on the lake. 

12. The clachan (outside and inside). 

13. Osbaldistone Hall as Frank first saw it and as he saw 
it later. 

14. The deacon in mid-air (from his own point of view 
and from Helen’s). 

15. The sons of Hildebrand — a group picture. 

16. The view from my window. 

17. The dying cries of Morris “haunted my sleep for years 
afterward.” Describe something by effect. 

18. Describe in a single word the appearance of Rob Roy; 
of Rashleigh ; of the bailie ; of other important characters. 

19. Expand each of these into a paragraph. 

20. “A calliflour glances sae glegly by moonlight, it’s 


474 


STUDY OUTLINE 


like a leddy in her diamonds.” Describe a landscape with 
similar aptness. 

21. “The heath-bell of Cheviot, the blossom of the border.” 
Let this description of Diana serve as a model for describing 
another character. 

22. Scott has been called the “Caledonian Comet.” Try 
to match it. 

23. “Cub Castle.” 

24. “What’s in a name?” Discuss the name Rob Roy. 
Is there any name or nickname to-day that has similar charm ? 

25. Carlyle called Webster a “steam-engine in breeches.” 
Strive for similar originality in describing * a hero of fiction ; 
a hero of the Great War. 

26. “Do not maister or Campbell me,” says Rob — “my 
foot is on my native heath and my name is MacGregor.” 
Write a description* which similarly reveals the character 
of a person by his own words. 

27. “A’ men allow Rob keeps his word.” Describe * a 
person by what others say of him. 

28. Describe * a character by analysis. 

Descriptive Narration 

1. The group at the Black Bear Inn. (Describe the 
characters and make them talk or tell stories.) 

2. An interview with a veteran. 

3. A tramp through the Catskills. 

4. Jarvie’s return to town. 

5. A night under the pines. 

6. The death of Rashleigh. 

7. The escape of Rob Roy (with a map). 

8. Capt. Kidd. 

9. Stirling Castle. 

10. A visit to Rob’s cave. 

11. An incident in which a child is introduced into the 
novel. 

12. Tom Faggus, the highwayman in Lorna Doone. 

13. The squall and I. 

14. The death of Roderick Dhu ( The Lady of the Lake, 
Canto VI, stanza 21). 

* This type of description is expository, not pictorial. 


STUDY OUTLINE 


475 


15. An adventure between Rob Roy and Ulysses. 

16. Fishing with Fairservice. 

17. The bailie encounters the ghost of “his father the 
deacon before him.” 

18. Mattie entertains her women friends during the 
bailie’s absence. 

19. Jesse James. 

20. Alone in a castle. 

21. Irving at Abbotsford. 

22. Rob Roy at the movies. 

23. Hunting for fishing tackle. 

24. A trip to 1969. 

25. Five thousand feet toward the stars. 


Moving Pictures 

1. “The Eagle, he was lord above 

And Rob was lord below,” 

said Wordsworth. Describe Rob’s escape down the river 
from his point of view and from the eagle’s. 

2. Sir Hildebrand arrives at the feast. 

3. Muster day. 

4. The parade. 

5. The MacGregors coming down the lake {The Lady of 
the Lake, Canto II, stanza 16). 

6. Sir Hildebrand’s sons at Coney Island. 

7. Helen and the bailie. 

8. An encounter between Rob Roy and Andrew Fair 
service. 

9. Buffalo Bill. 

10. An Indian massacre. 

11. A storm in the highlands. 

12. The approach of Rob Roy on Glasgow bridge 

13. The fiery cross. 

14. In the tolbooth. 

15. Up the Hudson. 

16. The winning run (from the runner’s point of viewj 
from the opposing catcher’s ; from a spectator’s). 

17. “Airy navies.” 


476 


STUDY OUTLINE 


Exposition 

1. Define setting , plot, climax, style. ■ 

2. Define fiction, novel, romantic novel, historical novel, 
realistic novel. 

3. Define Jacobite, Hanoverian, Covenanter, Druids. 

4. Define feud, clan, taghairm, pibroch, coronach, heraldry, 
blackm.ail. 

5. Define the humorous words pickthank, legbail , through- 
stane. 

6. Under description you described each of the leading 
characters in Rob Roy in a single word. Now explain each 
character in a single word, the germ of a character sketch. 

7. Similarly find the words which best characterize your 
friends. 

8. Similarly characterize living heroes. 

(Topics for paragraphs by comparison or contrast, or both.) 

9. Hildebrand and William. 

10. Plot and story. 

11. Novel and drama. 

12. Novel and history. 

13. Fiction and non-fiction. 

14. Serial and cereal. 

15. Fact and truth. 

16. Classicism and romanticism. 

17. The Salt-Market in Jarvie’s time and ours. 

18. Climax and anti-climax. 

(Topics for paragraphs by one or more examples.) 

19. “Trashy novels.” 

20. “A nice story.” 

21. Serial fiction. 

22. “Bestsellers.” 

23. “Coals to Newcastle.” 

24. “Johnny on the spot.” (Illustrate with Rob Roy.) 

25. “Sweet are the uses of adversity.” (Illustrate from 
Scott’s life.) 

26. An example of kindness in the story. (Be careful to 
preface the example with a topic sentence.) 

27. Treat similarly an instance of generosity; of perse- 
verance ; of ambition. 

28. Illustrate each of these from the life of the author. 


STUDY OUTLINE 


477 


(Topics for paragraphs by repetition.) 

29. Rob Roy has enriched the common speech. 

30. Scott’s goodness. 

31. Fairservice’s humor. 

32. Rob the modern Ulysses. 

33. Truth is stranger than fiction. (Draw material from 
the Great War.) 

34. The material in answer to No. 28. Which is more 
effective, example or repetition? Why? 

35. True heroism. 

36. Qualities of a sportsman. 

37. Why we went to war. 

(Explain the following maxims, by comparison, example, 
or repetition.) 

38. “Ilka path hath its puddle.” 

39. “Kings’ chaff is better than other folks’ corn.” 

40. “Ye never saw dull weather clear without a shower.” 

41. “Can a man touch pitch and not be defiled?” 

42. “ Never put out your arm farther than ye can draw it 
easily back again.” 

43. Treat similarly six other maxims in Rob Roy. 

44. Treat similarly six maxims from Benjamin Franklin. 

45. Treat similarly six contemporary maxims. 

46. Treat similarly war mottoes and slogans. 

(Topics for character sketches by any appropriate para- 
graph development. See Characters, Nos. 7, 8, and 9 and foot- 
note to Description, No. 25 ff.) 

47. Frank and Rashleigh. (In this and the next four 
answers expand the words chosen in answer to the second part 
of No. 6.) 

48. Rob Roy. 

49. Diana Vernon. 

51. “The bailie is as welcome as the flowers in May.” 

52. Andrew Fairservice is a “lovable coward.” 

53. The Dougal creature. 

54. Grant and Lee. 

55. Lincoln and Wilson. 

56. Booker T. Washington. 

57. Jacob Riis. 

58. Edison. 

59. Mary Antin. 


478 


STUDY OUTLINE 


60. Haig. 

61. Joffre. 

62. Foch. 

63. Pershing. 

(Topics for paragraphs by any suitable method.) 

64. Expand into a paragraph each of the words in the first 
four questions. 

65. Write a humorous paragraph about each of the words 
in the fifth question. 

66. The call of the sea. 

67. Ku Klux. 

68. Cowboys. 

69. The “Last Sleep of Argyle.” 

70. The Pretender. 

71. History and tradition. 

72. The fiery cross. 

73. Armorial distinctions. 

74. “The pock-pudding English.’ ’ 

75. Scott’s childhood at Sandy-Knowe. 

76. Busy B’s. 

77. “Scott is the truest of historians.” 

78. Stonehenge. 

(Topics for essays or orations, seven hundred words in 
length, carefully organized, with variety of paragraph and 
sentence structure, and with a note of conviction that will 
bring results.) 

79. The pathfinder. 

80. The dad a boy likes. 

81. A defence of Rob Roy. 

82. Air castles. 

83. Blackmail. 

84. Highland travel. 

85. How to read a novel. 

86. The call of the clan. 

87. Rob Roy and Robin Hood. 

88. Home life in the Highlands. 

89. Indian raids. 

90. Carlyle said of Scott, “No sounder piece of British 
manhood was ever put together.” 

91. Scott’s financial failure. 

92. The romance of the Clyde. 


STUDY OUTLINE 


479 


93. The Clyde and the Delaware. 

94. My favorite character in fiction. 

95. Scott’s animal friends. 

96. “Cooper of the wood and wave.” 

97. Romanticism in music. 

98. The music of the Highlands. 

99. Romance and reality. 

100. Rob’s education. 

101. Buffalo Bill. 

102. “The novel is the epic of democracy.” 

103. Highland superstitions. 

104. School spirit. 

105. Uncle Sam and I. 

106. Paint and powder. 

107. Rob Roy and Scottish Chiefs. 

108. Over the top. 

109. Home fires. 


Argumentation 

(Debate the following propositions :) 

1. Rob Roy is the real hero of the story. 

2. Rob’s careeT was justified. 

3. Rob Roy should begin with Chapter IV. 

4. [Scott] has “little of the artistic conscience.” 

5. Rob Roy was extricated from jail “completely and 
properly. 

6. The character of Helen MacGregor is overdrawn. 

7. Diana is “the best of Scott’s heroines.” (Lang.) 

8. Scott should have given a fuller account of Rashleigh’s 
death.” 

9. “All who read Rob Roy are innocent rivals of Frank.” 
(Lang.) 

10. Mark Twain’s opinion of Scott is unsound. 

11. Rob Roy is valuable historically. 

12. “Traitor’s word never hurt honest cause.” 

13. Scott was “a bitter and unscrupulous politician.” 
(Macaulay.) 

14. “Scotland . . . owes all the interest that the world 
feels in it — to Scott.” (Hawthorne, 1856.) 

15. “The plot, with its financial enbroilment, is only good 
for bringing in fine things.” (Lang.) 


480 


STUDY OUTLINE 


16. “His fundamental honesty and his wide humanity 
would form an a 'priori argument that his works on the whole 
should contribute to the amelioration of men and society/’ 
(Welsh.) Phrase the idea simply, and debate. 

(Are the following opinions of Scott true of Rob Roy? 
Are they true of Scott?) 

17. “Scott is a careful student of nature.” 

18. “Scott has human sympathy.” 

19. “No man can read Scott without being more of a 
public man.” 

20. “Scott’s characters are like splendid photographs, not 
living realities.” 

21. “Scott pauses on the threshold of the soul.” 

22. “Scott teaches morals without mentioning them. ” 

(The class may stage the following trials :) 

23. Rashleigh for stealing. 

24. Rob for absconding. 

25. Owen for debt. 

26. Andrew for horse-stealing. 

27. Rob for breaking jail. 

28. Rob for “lifting” cattle. 

29. Helen for killing Morris. 

30. The bailie for his conceit. 


Newspaper Work 

1. From the characters in the novel, organize an edi- 
torial staff for the Glasgow Thistle. 

2. From the maxims select an appropriate motto for 
every daily issue for a month. 

3. As special reporter, accompany Frank and the bailie 
into the Highlands, and dispatch a letter to the Thistle every 
morning and evening. 

4. In the form of a newspaper “story,” report the battle 
in the pass, with map. 

5. Similarly report the recovery of the papers. 

6. Comment on each editorially. 

7. As a “cub” reporter interview Mattie during the 
bailie’s absence. 

8. Be the first to interview the bailie on his return to 
Glasgow. 


STUDY OUTLINE 


481 


9. From Frank get an interview for the Thistle. 

10. Write an editorial criticizing the London Times for 
using the story without giving credit. 

11. Send a telegram of thirty words announcing Morris’s 
death. 

12. Similarly, report Rob’s escape. 

13. Tell an incident, real or fictitious, for which Rob Roy 
was decorated for bravery. 

14. Comment editorially on the above. 

15. Andrew Fairservice visits a florist. 

16. In the form of a newspaper “story,” treat Rob Roy’s 
escape from the Glasgow tolbooth. 

17. Treat similarly the fight between Frank and Rashleigh. 

18. Report the wedding of Frank and Diana for the society 
column. 

19. Write an editorial for each of four Sunday issues, 
basing each on one of the maxims chosen in answer to No. 2. 

20. Draw a cartoon illustrating the truth of one of these 
maxims. 

21. Draw a cartoon to reveal one of the characters in his 
true light. 

22. Report the. failure of the house of Osbaldistone and 
Tresham. 

23. Write “scare-heads” for the “story.” 

24. As newspaper reporter, guide Daniel Defoe to Rob’s 
cave, and write a “scoop” for the Thistle. 

25. Describe a Rob Roy film. 

26. A book review of Rob Roy. 

I 

Letters 

1. Write a letter to a friend who does not like novels, 
trying to convince him that he will surely like Rob Roy. 

2. Write a letter to any book-store, ordering three novels 
by Scott and three by other authors. 

3. Write to Sir Walter Scott, after reading Rob Roy, 
dating your letter 1820, and suggesting subjects in the history 
of your own state which would appeal to him. 

4. Your teacher has asked you to name the twelve best 
scenes from Rob Roy for panel drawings. Answer the letter. 

5. Write a letter from Diana to Rebecca. 

2 1 


482 


STUDY OUTLINE 


6. Apply for the position which Frank surrenders. 

7. Write a letter to Frank censuring his action. 

8. Write Frank’s letter of defense. 

9. Write to a boy in another part of the country about 
an Indian raid or some other exciting event in the history 
of your state. 

10. Write to a pupil explaining what the class has done in 
his absence and reciting the main points in the story (any 
five consecutive chapters). 

11. Write a letter to Lowell, commending or criticizing 
him for his judgment of Cooper in A Fable for Critics. 

12. A letter from Scott to Cooper. 

13. Write to a friend concerning a dramatic presentation of 
Rob Roy, at which Scott occupied a box. 

14. A letter from Irving to Scott. 

15. A special delivery letter from Andrew Fairservice at 
the Clachan of Aberfoil to Diana Vernon at — where was she 
at the time ? 

16. Suppose Scott should visit your class in Rob Roy and 
should then write an appreciative letter to the teacher. 
What do you think would please him especially? Try to 
bring it out in your (Scott’s) letter. 

17. Let all write the reply, and the best letter be sent to 
Scott. 

18. In a letter to your teacher, describe a scene in the 
country which Scott would revel in. 

19. The teacher replies, asking you to tell a story which 
fits the scene. In your second letter, comply with her request. 

20. Write a letter explaining some of the superstitions 
which you have found in the country during your vacation. 

21. Narrate an incident which shows the spirit of hos- 
pitality in the country. 

22. Write a letter to an eight-year-old boy, telling him the 
incident in Rob Roy which he would most enjoy. 

Research 

1. Rob Roy in history and fiction. 

2. The personal element in Rob Roy. 

3. Scott’s politics. 

4. Scott’s literary friends. 


STUDY OUTLINE 


483 


5. Thernusic of the highlands. 

6. The early history of my native state. 

7. My native state in fiction. 

8. Novels of the Great War. 

9. Sir Roger de Coverley and Sir Walter Scott. 

10. Highland hospitality. 

1 1 . The making of Sir Walter. j 

12. The short story in Scotland and in America. 

13. King Arthur and Scotland. 

14. Scott and Dumas : a comparison. 

15. Indian Wars. 

16. Poe’s New York. 

17. Scott’s debt to his predecessors. 

18. Scott’s literary descendants. 

19. Scott’s use of history. 

20. The “clan” Scott. 

21. Scott and Cooper : a comparison. 

22. Poetry associated with Rob Roy. 

23. Scott’s Scotland (with map). 

24. The plotting of Rob Roy and other Waverley novels. 

25. Scottish chiefs in literature. 

26. The poetry -of Scotland. 

27. Try to improve upon Scott’s mottoes at the beginning 
of chapters. You have all literature from 1818 to draw from. 

28. Literature in the trenches. 

29. American literature while Scott was writing the Waverley 
Novels. 

ORAL REPORTS 

An oral report has a double aim — instruction and pleasure. 
It should consequently combine knowledge, appreciation, and 
form. Intimate acquaintance with the subject and an orderly 
and earnest presentation of material are indispensable to 
success. The following outline and suggestions will prove 

heIpfuL I. Introduction. 

II. Setting. 

III. Story. 

IV. Characters. 

V. Style. 

VI. Comparison. 

VII. Conclusion. 


484 


STUDY OUTLINE 


The introduction may well include a statement of the kind 
of novel and of its place in the history of fiction and in the life 
of the author. Pupils are fond of giving extended biographies 
of the author, but it is usually better to tell just enough to 
arouse interest in the particular book — for instance, the date 
and the circumstances of its composition. This method will 
preserve unity, for the report is on the book and not on the 
author; it will also add interest, for it will prevent useless 
repetition if other books by the same author are treated. 
In any case, it is usually preferable to treat the author’s life 
in a report all by itself. 

The setting — time and place — may be treated briefly, 
with the introduction, if desired. 

The story should be told in its essential aspects — not 
more than three hundred words. Details are confusing. 
Anybody can tell a story carelessly, but selection and con- 
densation are more difficult. Care and discrimination char- 
acterize a good report. Tell just enough to instruct and 
interest. 

The characters — the important ones — should be pre- 
sented in simple exposition, reenforced by examples and 
illustrations from the novel. 

The style, also, should be discussed, with illustrations. 

This leads to a comparison with other books by the same 
author and with other authors. Here the pupil may reveal 
careful study by indicating likenesses and unlikenesses. He 
may reenforce his own opinion with the opinion of others, 
or he may take exception to those opinions, remembering 
that some novels have changing value and that, moreover, 
a critic fourteen years old may offer an opinion new and 
stimulating. 

The conclusion of the report should sound a personal note. 
It is an opportunity, not an obligation. Try to drive your 
classmates to the book. 

Through careful oral reports the class should know at least 
Quentin Durward, Ivanhoe, Guy M annexing, The Heart of 
Midlothian , Old Mortality, and The Talisman , and the best 
of Cooper and Stevenson. Ask your teacher which of the 
following are historical novels and which you should read first. 

Walpole, The Castle of Otranto, 1764. 

Goldsmith, The Vicar of Wakefield, 1766. 


STUDY OUTLINE 


485 


Burney, Evelina , 1778. 

Radcliffe, The Mysteries of Udolpho, 1794. 
Edgeworth, Castle Rackrent, 1800. 

Porter, Thaddeus of Warsaw, 1803. 

Scottish Chiefs , 1810. 

Austen, Sense and Sensibility, 1811. 

Pride and Prejudice, 1813. 

Scott, Waverley, 1814. 

Guy Mannering, 1815. 

Old Mortality , 1816. 

The Heart of Midlothian, 1818. 
Ivanhoe, 1820. 

Kenilworth, 1821. 

Quentin Durward, 1823. 

The Talisman , 1825. 

Cooper, The Spy, 1821-22. 

The Pilot, 1824. 

The Last of the Mohicans, 1826. 
The Prairie, 1827. 

The Pathfinder, 1840. 

Lytton, The Last Days of Pompeii, 1834. 
Dana, Two Years before the Mast, 1837. 
Dickens, Oliver Twist, 1837-39. 

David Copperfield, 1849. 

A Tale of Two Cities, 1859. 

Dumas, The Three Musketeers , 1845. 
Thackeray, Henry Esmond, 1852. 

The Virginians, 1858. 
Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables, 
Kingsley, Westward Ho ! 1855. 

Hughes, Tom Brown’s School-Days, 1856. 
Eliot, The Mill on the Floss, 1859. 

Silas Marner, 1861. 

Romola, 1863. 

Reade, The Cloister and the Hearth, 1861. 
Blackmore, Lorna Doone, 1869. 

Wallace, Ben Hur, 1880. 

Stevenson, Treasure Island, 1883. 
Kidnapped, 1886. 

The Master of Ballantrae, 1889. 
Jackson, Ramona, 1884. 




1851. 


486 


STUDY OUTLINE 


Howells, The Rise of Silas Lapham, 1885. 
Doyle, The White Company, 1890. 
Mitchell, Hugh Wynne, 1897. 

Kipling, Captains Courageous, 1897. 
Churchill, The Crisis, 1901. 

Wister, The Virginian, 1902. 


GLOSSARY 


abune — over, above 
aff — empty 
ahint — behind 
aiblins — perhaps 
aik snag — oak stump 
ain — own 
air — early 
aim — iron 
ajee — awry 

alguazil — police officer, ser- 
geant 

amaist — almost . 
amerce — fine, deduct 
ance — once 

ance and away — now and 
again 
ane — one 
anes — ones, once 
aneauch — enough 
anker — Dutch liquid meas- 
ure, ten wine gallons 
aqua vitae — brandy 
archilowe — peace offering 
auld-farran — sagacious 
ayont — beyond, besides 

baik — curtsy 

bailie — magistrate second in 
rank in a royal burgh 
baith — both 


band — bond 
bang — spring, bound 
banning — cursing 
baril — a small brandy-cask 
barrique — hogshead 
bating — lacking 
bauld — bold 
bawbee — halfpenny 
bawdron — cat 
beild — shelter 
bent — moor, hillside 
bested — beset, hard pressed 
bicker — a wooden vessel ; to 
quarrel, quiver 
bide a wee — wait a little 
bigging — building 
bike — nest, swarm 
birkie — lively fellow 
birl — drink, treat 
blasting — puffing and blowing 
bleeze, bleize — blaze, talk 
loudly 

blether — nonsense 
bletherin’ — silly 
blythe — glad 

boddle — a copper coin, 
valued at one-sixth of an 
English penny 

bogle — hobgoblin, ghost, 
scarecrow 


487 


488 


GLOSSARY 


bole — aperture 
bore — crevice 

bourock — small hut, heap of 
stones 

braid — broad 
braw — brave, fine 
brechan — tartan plaid 
breek — breeches 
brisket — breast 
brochan — gruel 
brogue — highland slave 
broken man — outlaw 
brose — porridge 
brownie — domestic goblin 
buddiell — a small cask 
bumbaized — stupefied 
byre — cow-house 

ca’ the shuttle — drive the 
shuttle 

cadger — carrier, hawker 
caitiff — mean person 
callant — lad 
caller — cool, freshen 
Cannlemas — Candlemas 
cap — cup 

captions (see hornings) 

carle — churl, fellow 

carline — the feminine of carle 

cateran — freebooter 

cauldrife — chilly 

caunle — candle 

caup — cup, bowl, shell 

chack — snack 

chafts — jaws 

chap — strike 

chappin — quart measure 


chiel, chield — child 
chuckie-stances — pebbles 
clachan — hamlet, inn, monu- 
ment 

claes — clothes 

clash — gossip, scandal 

clauts — clots 

clavers — gossip, idle talk 

claymore — large sword 

clerk — write 

cloot — hoof 

clout — blow with hand 

clow — clove 

cocket, cockit — custom house 

seal 

cog — wooden vessel 
coif — cap, hood 
collogue — intrigue 
coost — cast 
corbies — ravens, crows 
coulter — blade of a plow 
coup — upset 

coup the crans — go to wreck 

crack — talk, conversation 

craig — neck 

creagh — raid 

crouse — cheery, confident 

crowdie — porridge 

cuitle up — diddle, manage 

curliewurlies — twistings 

daffin’ — frolicsome 
daft — silly 

daiker — dicker, toil, jog 
slowly 

dam, dern — conceal 
deil — devil 


GLOSSARY 


489 


ding — beat 

dirdum — tumult, uproar 
divot — thin sod for thatching 
docket, dockit — calendar of 
business 
dooms — very 
douce — quiet, gentle 
doun — down 
dour — hard, sullen 
dourlach — satchel, bundle 
dousely — quietly 
dow — can, able 
dow’d — withered 
dree — suffer 
drow — drizzle 
dubitation — doubt 
duinhe-wassel — clansman of 
superior rank 

een — eyes 
e’en — even, evening 
e’enow — just now, even now 
ellwand — a yard measure 
eneuch, enow — enough 
ettle — intend 

fa’ — befall 
fa’ard — favored 
fa’s — who’s 
fa’en — fallen 
fallow — fellow 
fash — trouble 
fasheous — troublesome 
fasterus e’en — Shrove Tues- 
day 

fat — what 
fause — false 


faut — fault 

f eal — loyal 

feck — part 

feckless — feeble, weak 

fend — fence, parry, shift 

ferlie — wonder, wonderful 

file — defile 

fizzenless — weak, useless 
flae — flea 

fleech — coax, wheedle 
fleer — jeer 
fleg, fley — fright 
flowmoss — wet moss 
flufgibs — squibs, explosions 
of powder 
flyte — scold 

forboughen — blown, breath- 
less 

forbye — besides 
forgather — encounter, be to- 
gether 

foris-familiation — the condi- 
tion of one emancipated 
from parental authority 
forpet, forpit — fourth of a 
peck 

foundered — lame 
fozy — soft, spongy 
fusionless (see fizzenless) 

gaed — went 

gablo-glass, gally-glass — 
heavy-armed soldiers 
gae — game 
Gaels — Highlanders 
gangthereout — vagrant, wan- 
dering 


490 


GLOSSARY 


gar — make 
gash — sharp, shrewd 
gate — way, manner 
gear — business, property 
gedd — pike 

gillies — highland servants 
gillion-a-naillie — lads with 
kilts 

gillravage — plunder 
gin — if 

girdle — griddle 

gleed — twisted 

gleg — bright and smooth 

gliff — instant 

glisk — glimpse, glance 

gloom — frown 

glowr — gaze, stare 

gomeril — fool 

gorbals — southern suburbs 
of Glasgow 
gowd — gold 
gowk — fool, cuckoo 
gowl — scold 

grails, graduals — Roman 
Catholic service-books 
grat — cried 
great-coat — overcoat 
gree — agree 
greet — cry 
grew — shiver 

grewsome — bitter, ill- 
omened 
grice — pig 

grieve — bailiff, steward 
grilse — young salmon 
grip — hold 

grit — great, influential 


grogam — coarse silk fabric 
gude — good 

gudman — husband, head of 
the house 

guided — employed, treated, 
used 

hadden — held 
haet — small thing 
haggis — pudding boiled in a 
sheep’s stomach 
haill, hale — whole 
hallion — rogue 
hantle — great many 
ham-pan — skull 
harns — brains 
harried — plundered 
hars’t — harvest 
haud — hold 
hauding — means 
hauld — place of resort 
havings — behavior 
heckle — a sharp-toothed in- 
strument used for cleaning 
flax 

hempie — rogue worthy of the 
gallows 

herd — keeper of cattle 

herd-widdiefows — mad 
herdsman, cattle-stealer 
heritor — land-owner 
her-nainsel — - myself 
hership — plunder 
het — hot 

hinderlans — buttocks 
hirdy-girdy — topsy-turvy 
hoodie-craws — hooded crows 


GLOSSARY 


491 


homings and captions — war- 
rants for arrest for debt 
hose-net — small fish-net 
hough — thigh, ham 
hout — hoot 
howe — hollow 
howlet — owl 
hoy — incite 
hurdies — buttocks 
hure — lure 

ilk, ilka — each, every 
ill-fa’ ard — ugly 
impetrate — obtain by petition 
ingans — onions 
ingle — fire, fireplace 
intromit — meddle with 
ither — other 

jalouse — guess, suspect 
jannocks — bannocks or cakes 
of oats 
jaud — jade 
jaw — wave, flow 
joctaleg — clasp-knife 
joseph — riding-cloak 
jouk — dodge 
jow — toll a bell 
justified — executed for trea- 
son 

kail, kale — cabbage 
kaim — comb 
keek — peep 
kelty — completely 
kemp — strive, fight 
ken — know 


kernes — freebooters, retain- 
ers 

kill-cow — desperado 
kilted — tucked up, elevated 
kinrick — kingdom 
Kintaill — a parish in the 
county of Ross 
kittle — ticklish 
kittle cast — ticklish part 
knap — affect to speak good 
English 

kraemes — stalls, shops 
kye — cows 

kyloes — Highland cattle 
kythe — seem 

laigh — low 
laith — loth 
lang — long 
lang-kale — colewort 
lang lug — a great deal 
lang-nebbit — long-nosed 
lapper — curdle, besmear 
lassock — little girl 
lave — rest, remainder 
lawin — reckoning 
leasing — treason 
leg-bail — runaway 
levee — reception 
lick — like 

liesna — lies not, is not 
lightlied — slighted, made 
light of 

lilting — caroling 

limmers — women of low 

character 

link — talk, preach, rattle 


492 


GLOSSARY 


loon — fellow, rascal 
loot — let 
lound — quiet 
loup — leap 
lowe — flame 

lub-fish — a variety of stock- 
fish, two' feet long 
luckie — widow, landlady 
lug- ear — portion 
Lunnon — London 

malison — curse 
manse — parsonage 
marrow — a partner in mar- 
riage 

maun -— must 
mense — sense, manners 
merk — Scottish coin, valued 
at 13 shillings, 4 pence 
messan-dog — little dog 
mew — gull 
mickle — much 
midden — dunghill 
mint — attempt 
minted — made 
mirk — murky, dark 
misguided — misused 
mistryst — alarm 
morning — an early dram 
mouls — earth 
muckle — much 
muir — moor, heath 
mull — horn, snuff-box 
mutch — cap 

mutchkin — an English pint 

naig — nag 
nainsell — own self 


napery — table linen 
nash-gab — impertinent chat- 
ter 

nathless — nevertheless 
neb — nose 
neist — next 
neuk — nook, corner 
nevoy — nephew 
nipperty-tipperty — affectedly 
exact 

nowt, nolt — black cattle 

ohon — alas 
ohonari — woe is me 
opensteek — openstitch 
orra — odd, occasional 
ower — over 
owsen — oxen 

pacolet — dwarf 
paddock — toad, frog 
paiks — punishment 
palladium — something af- 
fording safety 
parochine — parish 
parritch — porridge 
pat — pot, put 

pateraroes, pedereroes — 
small pieces of ordnance 
paupera regna — poverty- 
stricken domain 
pearlins — lace 
ped — basket 
pickle — a small quantity 
pickthank — officious fellow 
piddling — any fastidious or 
trifling action 


GLOSSARY 


493 


pided — bided 

pies — directory of church 
services 

pike — to strike out with the 
beak 

pinch — iron crowbar or lever 
pirn — reel, bobbin 
plack — a copper coin, valued 
at one-third of an English 
penny 

pleugh — plow 
pliskie — trick 
ploy — frolic, prank 
pock — bag 

pockmanty — portmanteau 
poindings — distrainings 
pootry — poultry 
portuasses — breviaries 
pou’d — pulled 
provost — Scotch' mayor 
pow — head 

quean — wench 
queezmaddam — French pear 

rabbling — mobbing 
raddle — beat 
rae — roe 

ramstam — forward, rash 
rap and rend — rob with 
violence 

rathe — ready, quick 
rax — stretch 
recusant — non-conformist 
redd — clear up, advise 
red-wud — stark mad, ad- 
venture 


reek — smoke 
reft — seized, robbed 
reisted — roasted 
reive — rob, pillage 
replivisable — that may be 
set at liberty on security 
being given 

reset — harboring an outlaw 
rig, rigging — ridge, top of 
house 
rin — run 
rive — split, rend 
rock — distaff 
roose, rouse — praise 
roup — sell at auction 
routh’s company — plenty of 
company 

rout — bellow, roar 

row — roll 

rudas — rude 

ruffit — robbed 

rudas — haggard old woman 

rue-bargain — smart-money 

rug — good mouthful 

ruggit — pulled 

sackless — innocent 
sain — blessed against evil in- 
fluence 
sair — sore 
sap — a ninny 
sark — shirt 

Sassenach — Saxon, English 
saut — salt 
scart — cormorant 
screeded — torn 
seamaws — sea-gulls 


494 


GLOSSARY 


seid suas — strike up 
sell — whole 
ser’ing — serving 
set — become 
sett — pattern 
shabble — cutlass 
shaw — a flat at the bottom 
of a hill 

shelty — small horse, a Shet- 
land pony 
sherra — sheriff 
shoon — shoes 
shore — threaten 
sic, siccan — such 
siller — silver 
singit — singed 
skaith — damage 
skart — scratch 
skeps — beehives 
skinker — one who serves 
drink 

skirl — scream 
skreigh — shrill cry 
skreigh-o’-day, first peep of 
dawn 

skyte — a contemptible fellow 

slabber — slobber 

slink — worthless, greedy 

smaik — silly fellow 

sneck — notch 

snell — sharp, severe 

so — if 

soothfastly — honestly 
sort — manage 
soru — beg 
sough — silence, sigh 
spang — spring 


speer — ask, inquire 
speerings — information 
splore — riot, row 
sporran — purse 
spreagherie, spreagh — cattle- 
stealing 

stane — 14 -pound weight 
states — statements 
steek — shut, fasten 
steer, stir — molest 
stent — restriction 
stentmaster — assessor 
stibbler — poor preacher 
stickit — stuck in, stuck 
stint — stop, hang back 
stock-fish — cod, ling, etc. 
stot — bullock 
stoup — a liquid measure 
stow — lop, cut off 
strae — straw 

strathspey — Highland dance 
stringhalt — springhalt 
suld — should 

supple-jack — a strong, pliant 

cane 

sybo — young onion 
syne — since, ago 

ta — the 

tae, tane — the one 
tass — glass 
tat — that 
tatty — potato 

tawpy — a slow, awkward girl 
thae — those, these 
theft-boot — hush-money 
thegither — together 


GLOSSARY 


495 


thrang — thronged, busy 
thrapple — throat 
thraw — thwart 
throughgaun — cross-exami- 
nation 

throughstane — gravestone 
thrum — story 

thrums — loose ends of woven 
goods 

tig — twitch, touch 
till — to 

tither — the other 
titling — a kind of stock-fish 
tod — fox, bush 
tolbooth — jail 
tonneau — hogshead 
took — beat of drum 
toom — empty 
tout — toot, guide 
tow — rope 
trepan — trick 
trews — trousers 
trotcosey — riding-hood 
tryste — rendezvous, appoint- 
ment 

tuggit — tugged 
tuilzie — scuffle 
tup — rain 

turf-back — turf bucket 
twal — twelve 
twasome — two 

uncased — undressed 
unchancy — unlucky, danger- 
ous 

unco — uncommon, particu- 
lar, sad 


unfreends — enemies 
usquebaugh — whisky 

varsal — universal 
veltes — liquid measure, 6 
pints 

vivers — victuals 

wa’ — wall, way 

wabster — weaver 

wad — would, wager, hostage 

wadset — mortgage 

wae — woe, sorry 

waesome — sorrowful 

wally-draigle — feeble person 

wame — stomach 

wap — flutter 

wapping — strout, strapping 
warsle — wrestle 
watna — don’t know 
waur — worse 
wean — child 
weasand — throat 
wedder — a wether, male 
sheep 

wee — little 

weil — small whirlpool 

weird — destiny 

weise, weize — guide 

well-a-wa — welladay, alas 

wha — who 

whang — thong 

wheen — few 

whigmaleeries — gimcracks, 
fantastic ornaments 
whiles — sometimes 
whilk — which 


496 


GLOSSARY 


whin-bush — gorse-bush 
whish, whisht — silence, hush 
wight — valiant 
window-bole — the part of a 
cottage window that is 
filled by a wooden blind 
winna — will not 
winnle, windle — spindle, 
frame for winding yarn 
witting — knowing 
won to — reach, arrive at 
woodie, withy — twigs of wil- 
low used as halters 


woundly — very much 
wuddy, woodie — gallows, 
gallows-rope 
wush — recommend 
wuss — wish 
wynd — alley 
wyte — blame 

yclept — called, named 
yett — gate 
yill — ale 


Printed in the United States of America. 


Elements of Composition 

By Professor HENRY S. CANBY, Sheffield Scientific School, 
Yale University, and Mr. JOHN B. OPDYCKE, High 
School of Commerce, New York City 

Cloth, 12mo, 593 pages, $1.20 

The characteristic feature of this book is that the authors see 
the end from the beginning and never lose sight of it. That 
end is the ability on the part of the pupil to write clearly, correctly, 
and intelligently. From start to finish the appeal is to the intelli- 
gence rather than to mere form. The fact that before all else there 
must be something to say is emphasized in the first two chapters on 
Composition and Shaping the Material. The remainder of the book 
is simply a study of different ways and the best ways of saying what 
you want to say. 

The manner of approach is psychological. Part I contains 
(i) choice of subject; (2) arrangement of what you want to say; 

(3) the use of the sentence as the expression of a single thought; 

(4) the use of the paragraph; (5) the structure of the whole com- 
position; (6) the choice of the right word to express meaning 
nicely. Part II is a study of the recognized forms of composition, 
exposition, argument, description, narration, the story. In Part III, 
Aids to Composition, there are given for reference necessary details 
concerning spelling, punctuation, capitalization, grammatical forms, 
figures of speech, etc. Throughout the book there are abundant 
exercises and illustrative excerpts that serve to emphasize the point 
under consideration. The book is a unit, the plan works. 


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Suggested for reading or study by the 
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In the Pocket Classics Series At thirty-two cents the book 

Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. (Heermans.) 

Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. (Miller.) 

Blackmore’s Lorna Dbone. (Barbour.) 

Bulwer Lytton’s LasffDays of Pompeii. (Castleman.) 

Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. (Moffatt.) 

Cooper’s Last of the Mohicans. (Wickes.) 

Cooper’s The Deerslayer. 

Cooper’s The Spy. (Thurber.) 

Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe. Part I. (Gaston.) 

Dickens’s David Copperfield. 2 volumes. (Fairley.) 

Dickens’s Tale of Two Cities. (Buehler and Mason.) 

Dickens’s Oliver Twist. (Pine.) 

Eliot’s Silas Marner. (Gulick.) 

Eliot’s Mill on the Floss. (Ausherman.) 

Mrs. Gaskell’s Cranford. (Sampson.) 

Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield. (Boynton.) 

Hale’s The Man Without a Country. (Tucker.) 

Hawthorne’s House of the Seven Gables. (Furst.) 

Hawthorne’s Mosses from an Old Manse. (Burbank.) 
Hawthorne’s Twice Told Tales. (Gaston.) 

Hughes’s Tom Brown’s School Days. (Thojnas.) 

Hugo’s Les Miserables. (Crawford.) 

Kingsley’s Westward Ho ! (Leonard.) 

London’s Call of the Wild. (Mitchill.) 

Malory’s Morte d’ Arthur. (Swiggett.) 

Poe’s Prose Tales. Selections. 

Scott’s Guy Mannering. (Case.) 

Scott’s Ivanhoe. (Hitchcock.) 

Scott’s Quentin Durward. (Eno.) 

Scott’s Rob Roy. (Musgrove.) . % 

Scott’s Talisman. (Treudley.) 

Stevenson’s Kidnapped. (Brown.) 

Stevenson’s Master of Ballantrae. (White.) 

Stevenson’s Treasure Island. (Vance.) 

Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. (Johnson.) 

Thackeray’s Henry Esmond. (Henneman.) 

Wister’s The Virginian. (Hosic.) 


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Mackenzie’s History of English Literature 


$ 1.20 


Vitalized with the author’s good humor, and fresh with 
new ideas. Discusses periods and great literary movements 
rather than individual writers and works. Treats literature 
as a development and a growth. 


•Rankin and Aikin’s English Literature 


$ 1.20 


A complete and thorough treatment of the history of English 
literature which suggests ways and methods of getting to 
know the best in the works of the greatest writers. The final 
chapter of the book is devoted to the study of the various 
types of literature, with frequent reference to great master- 
pieces of each type. 

Tisdel’s Brief Survey of English and American Literature $ 1.00 

. 

J A text that finds immediate favor with teachers who under- 
take to cover in the busy high school course the requirement 
oi the College Entrance Board that calls for a general knowledge 
of the “lives of the authors, their works, and the periods of 
literary history to which they belong.” 


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POETRY FOR COLLEGE ENTRANCE READING 

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ments in English 

Uniform price, 32 cents a volume 

Arnold’s Sohrab and Rustum and Other Poems. Edited by 

Justus C. Castleman. 

Browning’s Shorter Poems. Edited by Franklin T. Baker. 
Byron’s Shorter Poems. Edited by Ralph H. Bowles. 

Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner, Kubla Khan, and Christabel. 

Edited by Tuley F. Huntington. 

English Narrative Poems. Edited by Claude M. Fuess and 
Henry N. Sanborn. 

Goldsmith’s Deserted Village and Other Poems. Edited by 
Robert N. Whiteford. 

Milton’s Comus, Lycidas, and Other Poems. Edited by Samuel 
E. Allen. 

Old English Ballads and Folk Songs. Edited by William D. 

Armes. 

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Palgrave’s Golden Treasury. 

Poems, Narrative and Lyrical. Edited by Robert P. St. John. 

Pope’s Rape of the Lock and Other Poems. Edited by Eliza- 
beth M. King. 

Scott’s Lady of the Lake. Edited by Elizabeth A. Packard. 
Scott’s Marmion. Edited by George B. Aiton. 

Selected Poems for Required Reading in Secondary Schools. 

Edited by Henry W. Boynton. 

Selections from American Poetry. Edited by Margaret S. 
Carhart. 

Tennyson’s Idylls of the King. Edited by Charles W. French. 
Tennyson’s Princess. Edited by Wilson Farrand. 


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